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A NIGHT WITH 
ALESSANDRO 








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A NIGHT WITH 
ALESSANDRO 

an JEp^ao^e in Florence unOer ber laet /llbcbict 


By 


TREADWELL CLEVELAND, Jr. 

— 

With Three Views in Color 
By Eliot Keen 



NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 
1904 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

APR 7 1904 

ClASS ^ XXe. No. 

^CO(Iy^ ^ 




Copyright, 1904, 

By 

Henry Holt and Company 


Published April, 1904 


I 


o 

CONTENTS , 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. On the Emperor’s Business ... i 

II. The Ball AT ViTELLi’s 32 

^ III. The Duke’s Lead 58 

^ IV. I Revoke 90 

V. I Am Brought to the Palace . . . 108 
VI. I Am Left to My Reflections . . . 120 

VIL I Play the Coward 138 

• VIII. I Play the Hero 163 


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A Night With Alessandro 


CHAPTER 1. 

On tbe Bmperor'0 :©U0inc00 

W E drew rein on the banks of the 
Arno and breathed deep to know 
our long ride nearly at an end. 
‘Well,” remarked Jacques, who from 
his experience gained in the sack of Rome 
and the siege of Florence had proved him- 
self an invaluable guide, “this. Monsieur, 
is the city drain. Pugh ! Methinks it has 
something of the town stink.” 

I laughed at my man’s rude comment 
upon the stream which Italian song had 
lately been extolling so enthusiastically. 

“Beyond that bend. Monsieur,” he pur- 
sued, “we shall come in sight of Florence 
herself, and if the sun keep so long above 


2 A Night With Alessandro 

the horizon I’ll count you the principal 
buildings.” 

I glanced at the sun. It was good for 
another hour, though the heat had long 
since gone out of it, leaving a chill that 
crept along the ground and set the blood 
a-curdle. The bare trees moaned; the low 
round hills lay cold about us, crowned here 
and there with the steep masonry of some 
castle or religious edifice ; the brown tide of 
the river slunk smoothly past, bearing who 
knows what secrets of Italian treachery to 
the sea. 

We had not come so far or to such a city 
to satisfy the curiosity of the traveller, or 
upon private business. Had I consulted 
my own inclinations, my horse had borne 
me quite another road rather than toward 
Florence, where, as report reached Charles’s 
Court, the very air was dangerous to 
breathe. 

Such stories as had come to us of fraud 


On the Emperor’s Business 3 

and wanton flaunt of ribaldry and vice, of 
poisonings, torturings, stranglings, that 
made the daily sport and nightly revel of 
the Duke ! It was no wonder that Charles, 
who had seated Alessandro only as a figure- 
head for his own dominion over Florence, 
and had baited that bastard’s allegiance 
with the hand of his own illegitimate 
daughter, was vastly disturbed at the un- 
stable conditions, fearing popular discord 
and another anti-Medician gust that might 
blow the fickle city clean into the arms of 
France. And then Francis had gone so far 
already, there was no telling where he 
might not go. With his show and dash 
and ready lie, his outward bravery and 
secret rottenness, he had made himself the 
idol of Catholic France, while in Charles’s 
realm he encouraged the Reformers in re- 
volt against their lord. For in such doub- 
ling and clap-trap he loved ever to 
squander his superficial talents. 


4 A Night With Alessandro 

The Emperor was more than justified in 
his distrust of such a man; nor did he for- 
get the marriage of the French Henry to 
Catherine of the Medici, which, arranged 
by a pope and floated by a borrowed dowry, 
had been celebrated with such luxurious 
splendor only a short time before. Indeed 
it was precisely to the pliant, courteous 
papal banker, Strozzi, who had advanced 
the dowry to the Vicar of Christ, fetched 
the bride in person at his own lavish ex- 
pense to Francis’s Court, and since played 
the curious part of Clement’s legate there, 
to whom Charles in his sagacity had dis- 
patched me with forged letters and sealed 
instructions for spying upon the color of 
the Florentine democrats. 

Watch Strozzi most of all,” he had said 
as I left him in his tent over his second 
capon: ‘^he’s the piper to whose music my 
handsome son-in-law is dancing such a 
pretty jig. Mark him well and use your 


On the Emperor’s Business 5 

letters nimbly, that he may think you 
French and shadow forth his secret lean- 
ings.” 

We rounded the bend just as the sun lay 
cut half in twain by a low fence of purple 
clouds. 

“Look, Monsieur !” cried Jacques eager- 
ly, “the tall square tower that shows grey- 
ish with white above. You’d think it lay 
against the dome behind. That’s Giotto’s 
campanile and the duomo. Farther to the 
right — quite a ways — comes another, little, 
very little, in comparison, and yet a fine 
turret. It’s yellow-brown, with a spread 
top and loopholes cut in round about. 
That’s the Old Palace. Then, high over the 
river, along the hill, does Monsieur see the 
thick walls climbing, with the gate that’s 
hollowed inward on the town side ? Angelo 
built that. And clear upon the hill again, 
one can see — just see — the church and the 
Palace of Cosimo. Ay, Florence is as fair 


6 A Night With Alessandro 

without as she is foul within. Pray God 
we come out of her with whole skins !” 

The risk of my diplomatic errand had 
not touched me till now, but as I saw the 
spires and domes and turrets before me, 
fading in the red light, and felt my heart 
stir with the beauty of it all, there came the 
thought of the contrast between that 
beauty and the souls of the men that dwelt 
there. In half an hour more we should be 
in the midst of the most inconstant popula- 
tion in all Europe, and knocking at the 
door of a man whose prudence covered such 
wiles as only the Italian political tempera- 
ment could invent and the school of a Mac- 
chiavelli reduce to a science. Was I equal 
to Charles’s trust Was it not far more 
likely that Strozzi would sound me, instead 
of offering himself to be sounded ? But the 
Emperor’s ring! I made sure it was safe 
in the folds of my shirt and pressed on, em- 
boldened. 


On the Emperor’s Business 7 

‘^I’ve half a mind to marry the girl,” de- 
clared Jacques dubiously, awakening from 
a fit of reverie as we came under the city 
walls. 

“Which one?” I asked, smiling, for 
Jacques had left many sweethearts behind, 
one for every league at least. 

“Monsieur forgets the extraordinary 
charms of the last hostelry,” he expostu- 
lated with a shrug, crestfallen to find me, as 
ever, skeptical of his constancy. 

We entered the gates in the gloom of the 
dusk and wound through the streets almost 
without question to the Strozzi Palace. 
It stood hard and stern before us, yet not 
without a certain elegance that capped it 
strangely. A row of massive hand- worked 
iron rings that hung around its walls be- 
low the windows suggested power and 
riches. 

“Jacques,” I called as we slid from our 
horses, stretching and stamping for the 


8 A Night With Alessandro 

stiffness of our legs and backs, ^‘you know 
your part?” 

‘‘Perfectly, Monsieur,” he replied, and 
mounting the steps, sounded upon the car- 
ven doors. 

They opened promptly, and a richly 
dressed man-servant demanded our busi- 
ness. 

“Monsieur Gaspard d’Aubray brings 
letters from France to Signor Filippo 
Strozzi,” recited Jacques glibly. 

“Enter,” said the servant. 

Jacques sprang to the horses’ heads, and 
I went in. 

Already in the cold hall torches were 
alight upon the walls. No one was visible. 

“Will the Signor wait here?” asked the 
man gravely. 

I nodded and was left alone to look about 
me. 

The place was plain, would have seemed 
even bare had it not been for the architec- 


On the Emperor’s Business 9 

ture, which, though dark and curious, was 
pleasing to the eye and of a bridled rich- 
ness that grew upon me every moment. 

A brisk step echoed at the farther end. 
I turned. 

In the flare of the torches a man came 
quickly toward me. He had a high fore- 
head, a full beard, a bright eye. The 
figure was slight, but athletic. 

‘T am Strozzi,” he said suavely, with a 
bow; “at your service. Monsieur.” 

He spoke French easily and well. 

“I am Gaspard d’Aubray,” I replied. 
“I have the honor to bear letters which 
require their delivery to you in person.” 

“Good!” he rejoined. “Shall we go to 
my library and read them at our leisure ?” 

I bowed, and he led the way to the 
room. 

Sitting to a desk, where a lamp at his 
side shed a good light, the Banker pointed 
to a chair and looked at me. About his 


lo A Night With Alessandro 

mouth there played the least hint of a 
smile, but his eyes, clear and cold, read me 
up and down with a deliberate scrutiny, as 
they would scan the figures of a balance 
sheet. I thought my expression satisfied 
him. 

‘‘The letters he inquired in a business- 
like tone. 

I gave him first a short note of introduc- 
tion from Henry himself, a missive which 
I had had the ingenuity to indite with my 
own hand, signature and all, the night be- 
fore our start. 

Strozzi read it slowly. I noted mean- 
while a Vergil that lay open at Book VI. 
upon the desk at his left. 

“Gaspard d’Aubray,” he repeated at 
last, picking his words, “you are welcome 
to Florence both for the sake of the writer 
and on your own account.” 

I refused to heed what to my conscience 
appeared the unpleasant ambiguity of this 


On the Emperor’s Business 1 1 

speech, and silently handed him letter num- 
ber two. It was sealed. 

“Do you know the contents inquired 
Strozzi when he had done. 

“So far, Signor, as might prove neces- 
sary in case of its loss.” 

He sat silent a while and then, without 
regarding me, held out his hand. 

I must have started. How could he have 
known that there was a third letter, which 
till then I had left in the pocket of my 
doublet.'^ 

He took it and read it attentively, as he 
had read the others. Then having folded 
it and laid it away with the rest in a drawer, 
he turned to me with a frank look, which 
was certainly engaging enough to be sin- 
cere. But I dared not forget that he was 
Strozzi. 

“The loss of Savoy rankles with your 
Francis yet,” he remarked; “and certainly 
it was not over nice of Emperor Charles if 


1 2 A Night With Alessandro 

he did actually poison the Dauphin, 
as Francis asserts. But accidents will 
happen even in the best regulated 
States.” 

Then with a complete change of tone he 
inquired genially: 

“How is our cousin Catherine.? That 
was a merry revel you gave us there, a 
royal good entertainment, worthy of 
France and her King!” 

“You were much missed after your de- 
parture, Signor,” I said. “Francis found 
you a past master in the arts of amuse- 
ment.” 

“What would you have?” he returned 
with a smile. “This pretty Duke of ours 
must serve his Emperor, and but for the 
play to while away the time, he had long 
since flung his dukedom to the winds. Flor- 
ence is no pleasant seat for a Medici that 
rules by the grace of an Emperor.’^ 

“So it’s true, what we’ve heard,” I com- 


On the Emperor’s Business i 3 

mented, ‘^that Alessandro loves his pleas- 
ures?” 

“Ay, though he’s too dull to know his 
own requirements. He has no invention. 
Why, the fellow, for all his zest for sport, 
can no more plan a night’s frolic than he 
can change his face.” 

“And you. Signor, must play master of 
revels,” I replied with a laugh. “No very 
irksome office, I should fancy.” 

“That depends, that depends,” mused 
the Banker, eying me keenly. “If the 
Duke, now, were to carry his search for 
novelty beyond the limits of the Florentine 
imagination, why then our respected 
father-in-law might feel called upon to in- 
terpose in behalf of his daughter. Or the 
people themselves might protest, caus- 
ing the imprudent Alessandro to disap- 
pear.” 

“But Charles,” I objected. “Would he 
do nothing to support his protege?” 


14 A Night With Alessandro 

“To quell the Florentines, yes,” he said; 
“against Francis, it might be too late. 
What can it matter to Charles whether a 
Medici or a madman, ay, or both in one, 
sits lord of Florence, so long as he keeps 
lord? The Duke’s no more than a pawn in 
the great game the Emperor’s playing. 
Alessandro may abuse the Florentines to his 
fill, if he but keep them under. Charles 
would help butcher them for his own ends, 
no doubt, but he has no time to waste upon 
their grievances.” 

“Some say,” I insinuated coolly, “that 
Alessandro is not to sit his life out in the 
ducal chair ; that he’s not the only Medici ; 
and that another, though he wear a cardi- 
nal’s robe, is not above a patriotism that 
would pay a profit.” 

“You mean Ippolito?” answered the 
Banker. “Well, his claim to Florence is not 
ungrounded.” 

“And Ippolito has something of the 


On the Emperor’s Business 1 5 

prince’s graces, has he not,” I asked ; ‘‘some- 
thing of the ruler?” 

“Yes, he is neither so ugly nor so stupid 
as our unfortunate Alessandro,” returned 
Strozzi, pausing with an odd smile. “But 
of France !” he went on presently. 
“Clement would seem to have dowered 
Catherine to no avail. Or rather,” he cor- 
rected, laughing softly, “would seem to 
have pledged Cellini’s brooch in vain. 
D’Aubray, have you never heard who lent 
the ducats that went with Catherine? No? 
Nor that he holds a papal brooch in pawn 
as security, all diamonds and gold, the 
handiwork of that great goldsmith? ’Twas 
a droll affair! Yet, so far, at any rate, 
Catherine appears to keep but slight re- 
membrance of her fatherland.” 

“Signor Strozzi, you forget the difficul- 
ties of the time,” I protested. “Charles, 
with all his warfare at the borders, keeps 
yet an eye at home. Whom have the 


1 6 A Night With Alessandro 

French to trust in Florence? And it would 
need a man of subtle skill, a general in the 
niceties of such manoeuvring. Fm a sol- 
dier and know but little of policy. But 
arms would not take Florence for the 
French — I see so much as that. For such 
a ticklish thing your prudence were the 
only weapon.” 

The Banker sat silent a moment, tapping 
the desk before him with the fingers of one 
hand. I wondered if I had gone too blunt- 
ly to work, and waited uneasily for his an- 
swer. At length he raised his eyes with a 
pleasant smile. 

“Prudence could contrive but little with 
Alessandro duke,” he said. “As a first 
step one would suggest his removal.” 

“One could count on the usual tide of 
Florentine sentiment carrying the city to 
the other pole of devotion?” I suggested 
questioningly. 

“The people love the Duke,” replied 


On the Emperor’s Business 17 

Strozzi, they have loved every ruler; 
that is, as long as he’s alive. Then they’ll 
love him for being dead. Every change 
of power is a fresh hope for freedom, and 
the Florentines are apparently the only 
human creatures who are unable to learn 
by experience. Each new lord has been 
hailed as a popular savior and has gone 
to his grave with execrations for thanks. 
To be prudent, one must win Florence 
with a promise and hold her with 
a lash. Else she would never know her 
master.” 

‘‘Let us suppose, then,” said I, “that 
Alessandro should suddenly cease to be 
Duke of Florence. In that case what would 
you predict as the probable course of 
events 

“Ippolito,” returned Strozzi, curtly. 

“And what would Ippolito mean for 
France.^” I inquired with interest. 

“That would depend upon her share in 


1 8 A Night With Alessandro 

consummating the supposed stroke of 
policy,” he answered. 

“What could she do?” I asked again. 

“It remains to be seen,” replied Strozzi 
with a shrug, “whether the required help 
is to be expected from another quarter.” 

“And is nothing to be looked for nearer 
than Rome?” I demanded, knowing that 
he hinted at the Society of Exiles. 

“There is indeed another Medici in Flor- 
ence itself,” he admitted. “Have you never 
heard of the despised Lorenzo whom they 
call, in the contemptuous usage of our 
tongue, Lorenzaccio, and sometimes ironi- 
cally ^the Philosopher’?” 

“No,” I answered. 

“He’s not to be ignored, however. I’ve 
told the Duke as much. More conceit never 
dwelt in one man’s head than dwells in 
Lorenzaccio’s. But he’s sadly unpopular, 
and fumes at the taunts that are flung at 
him from all sides. I’ve heard him swear 


On the Emperor's Business 19 


they should rue it when he played the part 
of Brutus. They laugh at him and call 
him coward, but d’Aubray, mark my word, 
to win applause the fellow’d mock at God 
Almighty, he’d sell his soul for a bravo. 

‘‘Yet he hangs fire,” he concluded, with 
an air of disgust. “Decision’s a rare 
virtue.” 

I said nothing. There was something so 
cynical and conscienceless in Strozzi’s view 
of the situation, and yet there was that 
about the man which drew me and made me 
like as much as I had seen of him. 

“Enough of politics !” he exclaimed at 
length, with an air of relief. “We must 
drop all weightier matters for the day. 
Vitelli — you know Vitelli, the Duke’s 
Master of Horse ? — gives the last ball of the 
Carnival. It’s most fortunate you arrived 
in time. There’s really nothing more mag- 
nificent to be seen in Florence than one of 
Vitelli’s balls. You’ll come, of course 


20 A Night With Alessandro 

I protested my fatigue and lack of suit- 
able dress. 

‘‘Nonsense!” he insisted as we returned 
to the hall. “Go to bed now, if you like, 
and sleep till eleven. Then I’ll send 
Tomasso to wake you, with a lot of togs to 
choose from. Sorry I can’t go with you. 
Have to escort the Signorina Luisa, my 
daughter, and — ^but you must not know all. 
I’ll see your man’s fed and housed. Here, 
Tomasso! Show Monsieur d’Aubray to a 
room.” 

I was ushered up two flights of stairs 
and into a large chamber overlooking the 
street. It was, like the other rooms I had 
seen, bare but elegant, and remarkable 
chiefly for its solidity and size. 

Directing Tomasso to see that Jacques 
had a chance to sleep and to have him call 
me at eleven, I set to refreshing myself 
with some grapes and wine which stood 
ready upon the centre table. 


On the Emperor’s Business 21 

As I ate I began to doubt whether it 
were a wise and prudent thing to take my 
Banker thus easily at his word, to accept a 
chamber in his house, and to go to sleep 
there, quite as much at home as if I had 
known him always. True, our little talk 
had passed off amicably enough, but Stroz- 
zi’s friendship — . Well, Charles had said to 
watch him, and Charles was shrewd. On 
the other hand, were I now to quit the 
palace and look up lodgings elsewhere, 
Strozzi might take offence or grow suspi- 
cious ; and again, should I stay, yet keep 
awake, the ball would be out of the ques- 
tion. I was puzzled. Certainly the ball 
would show me the chief persons of Flor- 
ence, or at least such as were chief to my 
interests. I could ill afford to miss the 
chance of such an entree. 

Eh hien! Things having gone thus far, 
where was the use of borrowing trouble ? I 
would sleep and take the chances. So, not 


22 A Night With Alessandro 

without some qualms, I laid aside my doub- 
let, kicked off my riding boots and, throw- 
ing myself so upon the bed, shut my eyes 
with the determination to think no more till 
Jacques should call me. 

I did not go to sleep. A restlessness be- 
gan to itch me till I scarce could lie still 
upon the bed. I tried such devices to en- 
courage drowsiness as experience could 
suggest, but in vain. I might as well get 
up. So I sat on the edge of the bed and 
swore. For to be as tired as a dog and still 
wakeful is a vexation to try the short pa- 
tience of a soldier. 

Walking the room, I fell to studying my 
impressions of Strozzi. 

The charm of the man irritated me as if 
I had been compelled to smile encourage- 
ment to some villainy which I could not 
even guess. As his words and manner came 
back to me I felt my first liking change 
slowly into an uneasy distrust that was but 


On the Emperor’s Business 23 

the more upsetting for its vagueness. I 
was glad that I had not slept, and the 
thought came to call Jacques and consult 
with him. 

But perhaps the walls had ears. 
Prompted by the thought, I began, under 
pretence of admiring the tapestries with 
which the walls were hung, to brush against 
them as if by accident, in quest of a place 
that would yield. There was none. 

Somewhat relieved I returned to the bed, 
stretched myself upon it, and tried once 
more to sleep. I would leave Jacques to 
his rest. 

Suddenly I opened my eyes. Some one 
had knocked. The knock was repeated. 

“Come in!” I called, sitting half up. 
But the door was locked, and I went to 
open it. 

Jacques bowed in quietly with a look I 
knew upon his smiling face. He had some- 
thing to tell. 


24 A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘Is it eleven?” I asked. 

“No, Monsieur; a quarter less,” he re- 
plied. “Pardon my knocking too soon. I 
have something of importance to narrate to 
Monsieur.” 

“So I perceive,” said I. Then, lowering 
my voice, I asked: “What do you think of 
this chamber as a place for confidential 
talk?” 

Jacques did not look about; he was too 
much on his guard for that. But he shut 
one eye knowingly and replied: 

“Monsieur is right. It is very close de- 
spite the cold, and the windows on the street 
are quite too cunningly fastened for my 
poor wits. But let us see if there’s no door 
besides, or an inner window opening on 
the courtyard.” So saying, he proceed- 
ed to poke and prod about, peeping 
where he could, till he had satisfied him- 
self. 

“No, Monsieur,” he concluded by affirm- 


On the Emperor’s Business 25 

ing, ‘^we appear to be under the observa- 
tion of four ears only.” 

‘‘What then?” I asked. “Come, let us 
stand over here by the fireplace.” 

“Only a bit of kitchen gossip. Mon- 
sieur,” began Jacques, “but not without its 
spice, as befits tid-bits from that quarter.” 

The faithful fellow smiled faintly at his 
own witticism, and then began to speak in 
a low tone and with great rapidity, pre- 
tending the while to be counting me change 
and gesturing as if in expostulation 
over some high but unavoidable expendi- 
ture. 

“Monsieur will be pleased to understand 
in the first place,” he said, “that the Sig- 
nor Banker, who in all things is said to pos- 
sess a noteworthy taste, is not without ap- 
preciation for the possibilities of feminine 
perfection as an accessory to the household 
economy. The excellences of his table, 
which I have already had ample oppor- 


26 A Night With Alessandro 

tunity to admire, are exceeded only by the 
excellences of the assistant kitchen maid, 
whose conversation is an art in itself.” 

‘‘Naturally,” I agreed, knowing my 
good Jacques’s frailty in such matters. 

“Yes, Monsieur, naturally, as you say. 
But, to continue, the inimitable Laura has 
friends, and one of them is maid to the 
Lady Lucia, a beautiful signora whom the 
Signor Banker condescends to admire. 

“This happens most conveniently for 
the Signor, who is thus enabled to keep 
tolerably posted as to the on-goings in the 
palace of the beautiful Signora. But alas ! 
it does not enable him to know all. The in- 
imitable Laura has the better of him there. 
For it appears that the Duke himself has 
not felt above flattering the Signora Lucia 
with his distinguished attentions, and more- 
over has contrived, as dukes can, to render 
that lady quite agreeably and disinterest- 
edly in love with himself. But it appears 


On the Emperor’s Business 27 

also that he has somewhat relaxed his ardor 
of late, so far indeed as to arouse the jeal- 
ous concern of the Signora. 

‘^Monsieur will already have recognized 
the materials of an interesting episode. 

‘^Signora Lucia, availing herself of the 
celestial counsel of an astrologer, secures a 
love-potion designed to quicken and per- 
petuate the passion of the Duke, and this 
she dispatches in the hands of the confiden- 
tial maid to no less a person than the chef 
of Vitelli, the Duke’s Master of Horse, at 
whose table the Duke is wont often to 
dine, together with a direction to mix 
some of it at the next opportunity in the 
wine of the unfaithful one. 

‘^But alas ! the chef of the Master of 
Horse has the cynicism to laugh at the 
whole affair, and refuses to meddle with 
such unprofessional seasoning matters. 
Thus the fair Laura, who sometimes car- 
ries a message to Vitelli’s chef, hears the 


28 A Night With Alessandro 

story from his own lips ; and thus I am able 
to repeat it for Monsieur’s entertain- 
ment.” 

I nodded, amused by Jacques’s rapid 
progress in the confidences of the inimitable 
Laura. 

^‘And that is nearly the end,” he con- 
tinued, ‘^though not quite. Laura, who is 
sufficiently attached to the Banker, her 
master, is yet perhaps a little interested in 
the chef of the Master of Horse, who would 
seem to be a fellow of exceptional qualities. 
Now I feel bound to ask. Monsieur, in view 
of the whole situation, what would be the 
position of our host were the Duke per- 
chance to learn that overtures of such a 
nature had imprudently been made to the 
chef of the Master of Horse Florentine 
statesmen have made more sparing use of 
love-potions than of other admixtures in 
the wine of their friends ; and is it not pos- 
sible that suspicion might attach to the 


On the Emperor’s Business 29 

Banker, who had ventured to come into 
rivalry with His Excellency over the affec- 
tions of the Signora? And should the 
friendship between Duke and Banker con- 
sist of the ordinary Florentine material, 
would it bear the strain. Monsieur, of such 
a suspicion? I should be pleased to 
have Monsieur’s judgment upon the 
matter.” 

“You’re right, Jacques,” I replied. “If 
Alessandro should get wind of this, Stroz- 
zi’s position would not be over agreeable. 
But why do you take such interest in the 
affair, Jacques — why, I would say, apart 
from the fascinations of the all-absorbing 
Laura ?” 

“Does not Monsieur perceive the value of 
so suggestive a bit of information in case 
— in case, let us say, the progress of Mon- 
sieur’s plans here should produce a too dis- 
agreeable friction with the ends of our 
host?” 


3© A Night With Alessandro 

‘^True,” I assented, struck as I many 
times had been at the sagacity of Jacques, 
who, to say truth, was far cleverer than I, 
and should have had my responsibilities in 
my stead. 

^‘And now, if Monsieur will allow,” went 
on Jacques, “I will go in search of 
Tomasso, who has promised to prepare a 
selection of masks for Monsieur.” 

^‘By all means,” said I; and then as he 
turned to go I touched him on the shoulder 
and asked: ‘‘Are you also going to the 
ball.?” 

“Naturally, Monsieur.” 

“And is Laura.?” 

“Naturally, Monsieur.” Jacques 
grinned. 

“Then perhaps as you watch the refresh- 
ments or hang about the kitchen you may 
find time to exchange a word here and there 
and sound the tone of Florence to her 
Duke.” 


On the Emperor’s Business 31 

^‘Naturally, Monsieur.” 

I smiled. He knew his part perfectly in- 
deed. 

‘‘That’s all,” I concluded, and he went 
out in search of Tomasso. 


CHAPTER II. 


Zbc mil at mtcllVe. 

W HEN Jacques and I descended 
Strozzi had already left. 

By Jacques’s advice I had 
chosen the inconspicuous mask of a French 
dragoon, which, as the shrewd fellow ex- 
plained, gave color to my carrying arms, 
and in case of need, would prove no mask at 
all. Jacques himself, who would have to 
content himself with a view of the ball over 
the refreshment tables, went in the handy 
riding dress he had worn all the way, over 
which he could readily adjust the externals 
of a waiter. 

Tomasso was kind enough to send a boy 
to light us on the way, and we stepped out 
into the night, heading for Vitelli’s. 

The streets were quiet; a gloom hung 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 33 

over the fair city. There were but few 
lamps and the sky was overcast. The chill 
wind crept through our clothes search- 
ingly. 

We had not far to go. At the turning 
of a corner we came suddenly upon a blaze 
of torches that leapt and hissed in the wind. 
The torches were fixed on the two sides of 
an open doorway, through which many per- 
sons were entering, some parti-colored in 
their masks, others cloaked sombrely in 
cape or mantle. 

We did not need the boy’s assurance that 
this was our destination. 

As we reached the doorway a gust swept 
out to us, thick with the odors of perfumes 
and wine. A strain of music came throb- 
bing from the violins. 

Jacques touched me on the arm. 

“Monsieur,” he said, “ ’tis gay enough, 
no doubt, in there. But Florence is a harlot 
whose paint but hides an ugly face.” And 


34 A Night With Alessandro 

with that, which I took for his prudent 
warning, he darted briskly to a small gate 
at the side. 

I went in alone. 

Almost at the very threshold I found my- 
self before a tall and soldierly form that 
moved about with the courteous air of a 
host. Convinced that it was Vitelli, 
I bowed and gave my name, offering 
Strozzi’s card, which had gained me ad- 
mittance. 

‘^Highly honored. Monsieur,” bowed the 
Master of Horse graciously. ‘Tray re- 
gard my house for tonight as your own. 
I trust you may carry hence pleasant sou- 
venirs of Florence to the land of courtesy 
and noble entertainment.” 

Then with an inclination of the head, he 
turned and left me, and I passed on into the 
main hall. 

It was a huge room and thronged. A 
very whirl of dress and sound and beauty 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 35 

and sweet odors struck me half giddy as I 
stole to one side and mingled with those 
who stood watching the dancers. 

Immediately about me were at least half 
a dozen women, masked, but masked with 
such seductive skill that I had sworn each 
separate face a paragon. The dresses were 
by far the most superb of any I had ever 
seen. Satin, silk, laces, silver, gold and 
jewels, grouped in all the ensnaring com- 
binations which the cunning mind of woman 
could suggest, flashed and glinted. I 
noted especially the marvels of a gown 
which I knew from hearsay as the Cyprian. 
Caterina Sforza had worn it on her first 
entrance into Rome. It was no modest 
dress, displaying the neck too freely and 
scarcely even veiling the swell of the 
breasts. But its flowing folds, its classic 
cut, its single hue, and the high-worn 
girdle of silver and pearls that clasped it 
round about, lent the whole an air of royal 


36 A Night With Alessandro 

magnificence. The music of a hundred 
sweetly modulated female voices, deepened 
by the bass of the men, played upon my 
ears. Flowers of every perfect shade and 
almost every name, tossed in profusion in 
hand, in hair, on bosom. In the centre the 
dancers swayed and bent with a langorous 
rhythm that was yet all fire, and the in- 
volved mazing of the figures changed and 
rechanged before me like the bright images 
of some fairy dream. 

At first I tried to find Strozzi among the 
rest, only to remember suddenly that I did 
not know his mask. It had been an unac- 
countable oversight on the part of Jacques 
not to post me as to that. 

It was oddly upsetting to find myself 
thus plunged into a sea of strangers that 
were strange even to themselves. I felt 
keenly that I was an outsider, that I knew 
not even the dancers, that the whole thing 
was for me no more than a pageant which 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 37 

appealed but to the senses. I had come in 
hopes of seeing some of the great ones of 
the town, and yet, save for some happy ac- 
cident, it would be as futile to guess at the 
names of those about me as it was to guess 
at the features and characters behind the 
masks. My only hope lay in the chancing 
upon some social fellow, garrulous in his 
cups. 

Such a hope was not unjustified, for even 
at this early hour the extravagance of the 
mirth and revelry was well-nigh incredible. 
Waves of boisterous merriment swept the 
hall every moment. Cries, shouts, bravos, 
the clapping of hands, kept the room in a 
constant uproar. Mask pressed by mask, 
the men whispering in the ears of the 
women, who laughed shrilly or shrieked in 
mock fright. The jesters, of whom there 
were more than a score at least, twirled their 
bladders and clapped them remorselessly 
over the heads of the unobservant. A con- 


38 A Night With Alessandro 

stant rain of confetti shot in gusty zig-zags 
from a hundred hands. 

A bladder rapped me roundly on the 
head. Facing about quickly, I caught the 
laughing mouth of a stumpy, thick-set fel- 
low who might well, from his size, be the 
hunchback he mimmicked. He beckoned 
me with his stick, and for want of an ex- 
cuse as well as from a natural curiosity, I 
edged my way toward him. But he eluded 
me, drawing me clear through the crowd at 
last, and halting only at the door of a 
smaller hall through which I could see many 
masks that drank and lounged at flower- 
embowered tables. 

^‘You want me?” I asked the hunchback 
in Italian. 

‘‘If you like. Monsieur,” he replied in 
French. ^^Say, what think you of these 
Florentine revels? Can your Francis give 
such a ball as our Vitelli?” There was no 
mistaking the facetious wink, the loose- 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 39 

hung lips, the swerving step. He was 
already far gone in wine. 

Here promised the opening I had wished 
for, and I caught at it eagerly. 

‘‘Nothing less than marvelous, good 
jester,” I replied, “but disappointing for 
the stranger, who can see but the outward 
side. There’d be some zest, now, in picking 
an acquaintance out of the throng.” 

“Nothing easier. Monsieur,” the hunch- 
back assured me, with the conceit of his 
condition. “Whom shall I show you first? 
Try me on any name in Florence. All are 
here.” 

He swayed unsteadily on his legs. 

“The Duke,” I suggested. 

“Alessandro !” he exclaimed. “Why, 
Monsieur, you are indeed a stranger. Me- 
thought every one knew the Duke.” 

I explained that I was but just come, 
that this was but my fifth hour in Florence. 

“So — so?” he replied, turning to whack 


40 A Night With Alessandro 

a woman on the cheek with his bladder and 
grinning as she scowled upon him and 
rubbed the place. 

‘^There, now, is a distinguished person- 
age, if you like,” he continued with a know- 
ing leer. ‘^No other than the Signora 
Lucia herself.” 

the arm of a nun.?” I demanded in 
confusion, staring after the couple. 

The hunchback doubled in a laugh. 

‘^Nun !” he burst forth. nun ! Why, 
man, that’s the Duke! The dress becomes 
him ill; but even did he wear it with a 
better grace, the hall had known him for the 
arm that rests in his.” 

The Duke I What an odd caprice ! 
Alessandro of all men ! 

I tried to overtake the strange pair with 
my eyes, but they were already lost in the 
crowd. 

^‘You’ll see him again, no doubt,” said 
the hunchback, following my look. ^‘You’ll 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 41 

know him so: short, thick, with a hoarse 
voice, and evil eyes that dance through his 
mask slits like fires of hell. But hush ! See 
the straight chap here, masked as one of the 
Papal Guards.? That’s Strozzi — do you 
know him ? And there, clear across the hall, 
dancing, in red and black — ^that’s Strozzi’s 
daughter, Signorina Luisa, one of the 
gayest of the gay, and yet by all report a 
proper maid. 

‘^All sorts flock hither. It’s the fashion. 
Come ! We’ll go through the other rooms 
and you shall see some more of the big 
ones.” 

So saying, he squirmed through the knot 
at the door and led the way in among the 
tables. 

‘‘Here! damn you,” he called to a scur- 
rying waiter. “Give that to me ; and this 
to pay for your scolding.” He snatched 
a goblet from the passing tray and held 
it out to me. “Drink 1” he exhorted. 


42 A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘The head must swim or miss the magic 
of it.” 

I drank gingerly and returned the 
goblet, which he greedily drained with the 
toss and smack of the drunkard. 

“Ha!” he ejaculated. “See there! It’s 
Salviati, who’s always close upon His Ex- 
cellency’s heels.” 

A tall form brushed past us, clad as a 
Roman gladiator, his splendid frame not 
unequal to the role. He was soon lost in the 
direction the Duke had gone. 

I glanced sharply at the hunchback. He 
was decidedly the worse for his last goblet 
and fairly reeled into the lintel as we passed 
from the room of the tables into an adjoin- 
ing salon. 

We stopped short at the strange sight 
before us. 

The salon was free of women, but over 
towards its further end a circle of male 
masks was drawn about a short jfigure, 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 43 

hiding all but the dark head, which turned 
this way and that, as if stung by the gibes 
that leapt from the noisy throats of his 
tormentors. 

“Oho! The gay Lorenzo, sporting the 
toga of the Patrician !” cried one with cut- 
ting mockery. “Who is it, pray, Caesar or 
Pompey, or one of the noble Scipii.^^ A 
fitting mask !” 

“Hush!” jeered another. “Don’t you 
recognize Seneca, the Sage.?^ Whom else 
should our stern Philosopher portray The 
very life! Mark the thoughtful brow, the 
angry eye, the proud composure of un- 
daunted intellect !” 

We had escaped the notice of the group, 
which was drawing nearer down the room. 
The hunchback pulled me aside into an em- 
brasure, and there we watched, I with fasci- 
nation. 

“Dogs !” burst forth the subject of these 
taunts as he broke through the circle and 


44 A Night With Alessandro 

faced about upon them. ‘‘Know ye not the 
shape of Brutus?” 

“Brutus! Brutus!” shouted one in an- 
swer. “What say, fellows? Know ye not 
the shape of Brutus, the hero Brutus that 
helped to slay the tyrant Caesar?” 

“Ay, ay — Brutus ! Brutus !” they re- 
echoed in a chorus, and burst into a roar of 
jeering laughter. 

“Ay!” cried the puny hero. “Mock — 
mock — mock your fill. I tell ye, ye shall 
one day know your master. Which one of 
ye, I say, would dare the deed this hand will 
do? Which one, which one of ye all, can 
find a courage louder than his boast or act 
the patriot save with coward jibes? Not 
one, not one. I tell ye, ye are cowards all, 
and do but fawn upon the hand that flays 
ye !” 

The. hunchback leant forward eagerly. 

The group about him they called 
Lorenzo tittered, but fell a little back, and 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 45 

the pigmy Brutus, strutting with a mien 
that was the very ecstasy of vanity, swung 
himself across the salon and out into the 
room we had just quitted. 

‘^Heroic words,” commented the hunch- 
back grimly, ^‘as becomes the mask. But 
as for action — faugh! The blood’s too 
white beneath his flabby skin.” 

“Who was it.?” I questioned, foretasting 
the answer. 

“That,” he returned with a hiccough, “is 
no other than Lorenzo — a Medici — him 
they dub The Philosopher’ or ‘Loren- 
zaccio.’ ” 

“Ah!” I exclaimed, the description of 
Strozzi recurring to me. “But tell me, 
friendly jester, are such words safe in Flor- 
ence.? Surely this Lorenzo threatened just 
now the life of Alessandro.” 

“Threats — ^threats !” he replied, grab- 
bing the end of a couch and half collapsing 
over it. “There are threats a-plenty in 


46 A Night With Alessandro 

Florence, let me tell you. But the Duke — 
why, the Duke makes sport of it all and 
drags his reluctant Lorenzaccio about with 
him upon his revels, delighting in his moody 
face, his fright of men, his lack of gallan- 
try. 

‘‘And now,” he added, stretching himself 
clumsily upon the couch and shutting his 
besotted eyes, “I believe I’ll sleep awhile. 
Adieu, Monsieur! A pleasant evening!” 
And with that he passed at once into the 
land of dreams and set up a sterterous 
breathing. 

I found myself alone in the empty salon, 
for the masks that had badgered Loren- 
zaccio had followed him into the main hall. 
Glad of a moment’s breathing space, I tar- 
ried in the embrasure, pondering what I had 
seen. What a wild orgy it was ! 

Through the door burst suddenly a 
woman, almost running in her haste, closely 
followed by the tall gladiator mask the 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 47 

hunchback had pointed out as Salviati. By 
the red and black of her dress I recognized 
the former as Signorina Luisa, Strozzi’s 
daughter. 

To them I was invisible. 

Seizing the frightened girl by the arm, 
Salviati began to address her in language 
so insulting that my soldier’s ears stung 
and tingled. So sudden, so completely un- 
expected and unimaginable, was the foul- 
ness of his tongue that I stood for a second 
rooted. 

Strozzi’s daughter wheeled upon the 
rake, and shot at him a glance that should 
have shamed him. 

I started forward. 

‘‘To me, Mademoiselle !” I cried in 
French, forgetting in my fury the country 
and the speech. 

She understood. Wrenching her arm 
from Salviati’s rough hold, she fled to my 
side and stood there pale and silent, panting 


48 A Night With Alessandro 

for breath, still with the cold steel of her 
glance parrying Salviati’s eyes. 

Salviati had started at my call and drawn 
himself up. But when he saw me with the 
girl that stood so quiet beside me, he smiled 
evilly, and, half-closing his eyes, took me in 
from head to foot minutely, as if he would 
draw my image in his brain. Then, with a 
twist that he meant to express supreme con- 
tempt, he span upon his heel and left us. 

The Signorina Luisa turned and 
bowed. 

^^My thanks. Monsieur,” she said simply, 
and courtesying low, made her way back 
through the door through which she had 
come. 

Unable to bear the quiet which now all at 
once oppressed me, I followed her back into 
the room of bowered tables. There, sitting 
to an empty place, I ordered a flask of wine 
and began sipping it. 

Some cause or other, perhaps a favorite 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 49 

dance, had drawn ofF most of the former 
occupants into the main hall. Only two 
persons sat near, their voices coming to me 
from the adjoining bower. At first I did 
not heed their words, my thoughts in a whirl 
over the scene I had just witnessed. Then 
something in the tone of one of the speakers 
caught my ear and held it. Where had I 
heard that sonorous, singing note before? 
In Florence ? Tonight ? Why, yes — it was 
Strozzi. 

‘‘Now really, my very reverend sister,” 
he was just then saying, “is such an exploit 
quite the thing for one of your cloth, or 
petticoats, rather?” 

A rough, suppressed guffaw followed. 

“Always so whimsical, my Captain of the 
Guards,” came the answer in a strangely 
hoarse and guttural intonation. “But I tell 
you, Blanche Lamont is a rarity in woman- 
kind, a pearl among pearls, a gem of gems ! 
My chaplain assures me on the authority of 


50 A Night With Alessandro 

the Abbess that no nunnery of Italy has 
ever held so marvelous a novice. Come! 
I’m in humor for a frolic. Do you and 
Salviati get together while I post my 
dangerous Lorenzo. Ha! ha! That’ll be 
salt and pepper to the fun, to see his 
putty face a-scowl among the frightened 
maids! I would we had Vitelli. He’s a 
coolish hand and something of a swords- 
man. But what say you, Strozzi? Our 
three swords and Salviati’s weight should 
make a pretty scrimmage among the petti- 
coats. It’s but a stone’s throw without the 
city ; we’ll have a look at Blanche the mar- 
velous, ay, nor a look only, and be back for 
the end of it here.” 

What could they be planning, Strozzi 
and this villainous fellow? I peeped. 

Over across the table in the next bower 
sat the squat, thick-set figure of a nun. 
She wore a mask, and through the eye-slits 
glowed a very fire of hell. 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 51 

^^Mon dieuT^ I exclaimed under my 
breath. ^‘The hunchback’s description to 
a dot. It’s the Duke !” 

But could it be in seriousness that he had 
proposed such an escapade — ^he, a duke, 
and to Strozzi, the bland and courteous 
Banker.? This outstripped all I had heard. 
This design of raiding a nunnery, in its 
bold violence to all decency and chivalrous 
usage, incensed me even more than the foul 
insolence of Salviati. There was no know- 
ing one’s self in the midst of such ruffian 
license. 

Confused as I was, I fell to listening 
again eagerly, scorning the manners that 
forbid the eavesdropper. My hearing was 
keen, and even the lowered tones in which 
the two continued to converse reached me 
distinctly enough through the tricky wall 
of leaves. 

Strozzi said but little, but, with a slyness 
in which he was indeed a past master, drew 


52 A Night With Alessandro 

on the other under cover of flimsy and half- 
hearted objections, till the Duke had, as he 
thought, convinced him against his will, 
while, as a matter of fact, he had but de- 
veloped the details of the exploit more ex- 
plicitly in obedience to Strozzi’s covert sug- 
gestions. In ten minutes the whole was 
roundly planned. The Duke was to with- 
draw at once and start with Salviati, not 
with Lorenzo, for the nunnery; while 
Strozzi was to see to Lorenzo and bring him 
after. 

Strozzi either did not know or feigned 
not to know the best chosen way, which the 
Duke minutely indicated, rattling off the 
names of the short-cuts and alleys with sur- 
prising glibness. I noted the names care- 
fully, though I scarce knew why, reciting 
them in order over and over again. 

Then the two rose and left the arbor. 

I got half up on the impulse to follow 
them, but sank back again to think. I 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 53 

was not here on private business or at 
private risk, and dare not meddle where 
weightier interests might suffer for it. 
With Jacques to help me, I had tried it. 
But by the time I could find him and get 
out the others would be lost in the laby- 
rinth of strange streets. 

But Blanche Lamont ! The name had 
pleased me. She was French, too, and a 
prisoner in Florence at the mercy of a 
Medici’s whim. My blood began to stir 
hotly as it does before a battle; a sense of 
impending trouble and danger stiffened my 
nerves and cleared my head. 

A waiter stood before me with a silver 
tray. On the tray was a scrap of parch- 
ment neatly folded., 

“Signor d’Aubray ?” he asked politely. 

I nodded, and, taking the note, threw a 
ducat on the tray. The waiter stammered 
confused thanks and left me. I dare say 
he thought me the worse for my wine. 


54 A. Night With Alessandro 

Tearing open the note, I glanced at the 
three short lines. 

“Refreshment tables, Monsieur. Most 
spicy viands. They say a Cardinal sent 
them. They have an edge for a Duke. 

“Respectfully, 

“Jacques.” 

This was not the first of such cypher 
messages that Jacques had sent me during 
the term of our comradeship. After a mo- 
ment’s doubt over the first two words I 
easily translated the whole as follows: 

“Come to the refreshment tables. I have 
an important communication to make. 
Some fellows are here from Rome, armed 
for an attack upon the life of the Duke.” 

I rose at once and pressed into the main 
hall, through the length of which I should 
be obliged to pass in order to reach the 
principal refreshment room. 

It was no easy matter to get forward. 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 55 

The place was now packed and the gaiety 
and license had reached such a height that a 
score of obstacles checked me. Now some 
corpulent rogue, masked as a woman, flung 
his red and muscular arms about my neck 
and kissed me loudly, to the immense de- 
light of the genuine women round about; 
now a jester clapped me dexterously over 
the ears or rubbed a handful of pasty con- 
fetti into my mouth; now a mock athlete 
caught me about the waist, feigning to 
wrestle with me. Once I received a real 
kiss, full upon the lips. It shamed me more 
than all, and I wiped it off with the back 
of my hand ungallantly, an action which 
brought a storm of derisive hisses from less 
favored ones. And once a drunken woman, 
horrid in orange and purple tights, reeled 
blindly into me and caromed off again 
with a mouthful of nasty oaths. 

Behind one of the refreshment tables 
stood Jacques, liveried, imperturbably dish- 


56 A Night With Alessandro 

ing sweetmeats at the elbow of a truly 
charming maid, beyond doubt the inimitable 
Laura. Though he saw me at once he 
heeded me not, nor did he make a sign till 
I came square in front of him and ordered a 
portion of some viand to me as nameless as 
it was indifferent. : Then he served me 
briskly, with raised eyebrows and an atten- 
tive ear. 

‘imminent I asked quickly. 

‘‘Tonight, Monsieur.” 

“Where.?” 

“In the kitchen, Monsieur.” 

“Still?” 

“Yes, Monsieur.” 

“We’ll go.” 

“Yes, Monsieur.” 

“Ten minutes.” 

“Yes, Monsieur.” 

I returned the plate, which I had emptied 
between questions, and sauntered carelessly 
towards the door, keeping a sharp lookout 


The Ball at Vitelli’s 57 

for the four men who were to take part in 
the unmanly frolic proposed by His Ex- 
cellency. Not one of them was visible. 

I stepped out into the street, wishing I 
had said five minutes instead of ten. But 
Jacques was there awaiting me. 


CHAPTER III. 


XLbc Duke'6 Xea2)* 



HEY are gone. Monsieur,” he 
said, with a tone of regret, 
^^and I know not in what direc- 


tion.” 

^‘Then I’ll tell you,” said I, and I re- 
cited the streets which the Duke had named 
to Strozzi. 

Jacques stared. 

‘‘The first. Monsieur.?^” he asked. 

“Della Piet^.” 

“That’s to the right from the Strozzi 
Palace,” he declared. 

“Good !” said I, and we set out, walking 
quickly. 

Once started down the Della Pieta we had 
but little difficulty in finding the right 
turns. Only twice were we confused by 
nameless alleys, so that we had to run 


The Duke’s Lead 59 

through to the next street to get the di- 
rection. 

We made what speed we could. As near 
as I could tell, the Duke’s party had at least 
twenty minutes’ start of us; the fellows 
Jacques had spied upon were probably 
pressing them close ; and since we did 
not know how near or how distant the nun- 
nery might be, it seemed best to lose no 
time. 

Soon we had gone through half the 
streets, and so perhaps half the distance. 
Encouraged, we started at a slow run, and 
wheeling about a corner, came plump upon 
the city wall. 

^^Now that was an error of taste in 
Angelo !” exclaimed Jacques, drily. 

For all my chagrin I smiled at the con- 
ceit. 

“However, Monsieur,” he proceeded, “if 
I mistake not, we are now on the northern 
side of the town. Hereabouts should be a 


6o A Night With Alessandro 

hillock that slopes near to the top of the 
masonry.” 

The loss of time was irritating, but there 
was no help for it. Jacques leading, we 
skirted the wall some three or four hundred 
yards, passing several suspicious but harm- 
less angles of blackness in the dark. 
Presently the ground began to rise up 
under our feet, and in a few strides we were 
within a man’s length of the crest of the 
wall. 

We made short work of the scaling. 

‘^One didn’t enter so easily under 
Charles,” commented Jacques. 

From the top of the wall we looked over. 
Jacques drew back suddenly, plucking me 
by the sleeve. On the road below some six 
or seven men were standing, heads close to- 
gether. 

“It’s the gang. Monsieur,” whispered 
Jacques. “They’re taking counsel to- 
gether. Perhaps we can hear.” So say- 


The Duke’s Lead 6i 

mg, he lay flat upon the wall and craned his 
neck stealthily over the coping. I followed 
his example. 

We could catch a few words. 

“I tell you no ; he^s gone with a couple of 
to — , depend upon it.” 

‘Ter Bacco! you fool! Do you think 

he’d leave the ball of the — to take a 

in the suburbs was the reply. 

“You addle-pate!” rejoined a third, “it’s 
a he’s after.” 

“Like enough,” assented the first speaker. 

“He’ll come back,” insisted another. 
“Let’s in among the trees.” 

“It’s a decent spot,” agreed a fifth with 
a quick glance at the wall. 

We had jerked back none too soon. 

“Too near the ” decided the first, 

who appeared to be a sort of leader over the 
ill-disciplined band. “We’ll go on.” 

They slunk off slowly, passing presently 
out of sight behind a clump of trees. 


62 A Night With Alessandro 

Jacques said something, but I did not 
heed it. I was wondering why I had come. 

Was it to save the Duke, who were better 
out of the way ; or Strozzi, who was nought 
to me ; or Salviati, who expressly merited a 
knife-thrust in the back; or the coxcomb 
braggart Lorenzaccio, with his flabby 
cheeks and silly threats No; they might 
every one be dead and rotting for all the 
loss to the world. What was it then.'^ Was 
it the name of Blanche Lamont.?^ 

^^Come, Jacques!” I cried. “Let’s after. 
If they take that way, the Duke’s in front 
of them.” 

Jacques nodded and pointed to the bot- 
tom of the wall with a shrug. 

“There are no hillocks upon the outside. 
Monsieur,” he said. “Another engineering 
defect.” 

“Shall we try it.^^” I asked. 

“As Monsieur desires,” he replied. 

I dangled my feet over the wall, feeling 


The Duke’s Lead 63 

for a hold. They found only a notch broad 
enough for the tips of my heels. But it 
would take four feet or so from the drop, 
and I balanced myself for the jump. 

1 stepped into the air, and came down 
hard upon my feet with a jar that set my 
spine a tingling. 

Jacques followed cleverly, but turned a 
little in the air, and I flung my arm about 
him as he touched the ground. 

“Thanks, Monsieur,” said he. “Now 
we’re out. How shall we get back again.?” 

“In quite a different fashion, I dare say, 
Jacques.” 

“Monsieur has some definite intention, 
perhaps.?” he inquired with an effort to ap- 
pear indiflPerent. 

“Yes and no,” I answered; and then, 
ashamed of myself for having kept him 
so long in the dark, I told him how I had 
sat at the bowered table and learned the way 
thus far. 


64 A Night With Alessandro 

Monsieur,” was his comment, ‘‘gal- 
lantry in Italy is a difficult thing.” 

“But the lady is French,” I replied. 

“So far, so good,” he rejoined. “The 
fox is French, to be sure, but the hounds — 
ah, Monsieur, they are hounds indeed.” 

It was oddly unlike J acques to throw cold 
water upon my adventures. He was too 
fond of them himself. 

“There were seven of the murderers,” he 
continued, half to himself, “with arms 
sticking out all over them hke the quills of 
a porcupine. That was evident in Vitelli’s 
kitchen. And four. Monsieur says, in the 
Duke’s party. Now if we side with the 
Duke, it’s even chances, six to seven. But 
Monsieur has no intention of siding with 
the Duke. Quite the contrary. Then it’s 
four to two if we engage with the Duke 
alone, or nine to four if the hirelings lend 
a hand to help us.” 

“Would you have me join with Ippolito’s 


The Duke’s Lead 65 

assassins, Jacques?” I interrupted, laugh- 
ing. 

‘‘It may come to a question of skins,” he 
protested. 

“What would you suggest?” I asked. 

“Monsieur desires to avert annoyance 
to the Mademoiselle?” 

“Yes.” 

“And the Duke does not desire to be 
stuck like a pig to suit the benign ends of 
his ecclesiastical cousin?” 

“Hardly, I should say.” 

“And seven to four would come danger- 
ously near that misfortune?” 

“Probably.” 

“Then what does Monsieur say to warn- 
ing the Duke?” 

“To what end?” I demanded. 

“First, that he may make discretion the 
better part of chivalry and postpone the 
raid for to-night at least. Second, that he 
may find himself indebted to Monsieur.” 


66 A Night With Alessandro 

The idea was a good one. I turned it 
over and over. Little as I desired the 
thanks of a Medici, to seem deserving of 
them were at least a prudent ruse. 

“If we can get to the nunnery in time,” 
I said finally. 

“Let us run,” proposed Jacques. 

We broke into a brisk trot along the 
road. We spoke no more, hoarding our 
wind and pressing on steadily. A house or 
two slipped by us. Once a dog barked, and 
once an owl hooted suddenly from a tower 
over our heads. 

A wall grew up out of the ground and 
we slackened to a walk. The trees were 
thick at the side of the road. It would not 
do to risk passing the hirelings in the inky 
shadows. 

“Hist!” signalled Jacques all at once, 
and he stood stock still. To the right of us, 
from behind the trees, had come the sound 
of a man’s voice. 


The Duke’s Lead 67 

We edged under the cover of some 
branches, but could hear nothing. Hold- 
ing up a warning finger, Jacques stole 
silently in among the trunks. 

I waited a minute — three minutes — five, 
but he did not come. Growing uneasy, I 
advanced a foot to follow. 

‘‘Hist, Monsieur.” 

He was there again at my side. 

I bent an ear. 

“The wall belongs to the nunnery,” 
he whispered. “They think the Duke’s 
within, and are waiting for him to come 
out. I suppose the gate’s farther up the 
road.” 

“Shall we go back a ways and get over 
the wall I proposed. 

“Does Monsieur intend to visit the nun- 
nery 

“What else is there to do.?^” 

“True, Monsieur. Eh bien! We dare 
not go forward, for they’ve a picket just 


68 A Night With Alessandro 

beyond. We’d have tumbled plump into 
him in another couple of rods. So we’d 
better go back, as you say.” 

‘‘Then quick !” said I, and we crept care- 
fully back along the road, keeping well 
within the gloom. Then I touched Jacques 
on the shoulder and, crossing the road, 
stood staring up at the wall. 

Several trees offered their branches, and, 
choosing one, I climbed to the level of the 
top and swung over onto it. Jacques fol- 
lowed. We looked about for a similar help 
on the other side. But there was only a 
brambly hedge below. 

“Get down or I’ll spit you!” croaked a 
raucous voice behind us. 

We got down fast enough, not as the fel- 
low below had intended, but with a chance 
jump over on the other side. 

We pulled ourselves, a little bruised, out 
of the bushes, grinning at our scratched 
faces. 


The Duke’s Lead 69 

The delays had nettled me, and I struck 
out into the garden impatiently, looking 
everywhere for the nunnery building. Cut- 
ting across so as to meet the road which 
must run inward from the gate, we came 
out upon it at last, walking briskly. It was 
very dark in the shrubbery about us, but 
we could not doubt that the Duke’s party 
was in the lead. 

Suddenly upon the quiet broke a shrill 
cry, and another, and another, in different 
women’s voices. We sprang forward at top 
speed, and at a turn in the road came full 
upon the nunnery. 

A light burned in the hall, flaring out 
through the open doors. Men’s voices came 
to us, loud and peremptory, and as we drew 
near lights began to flicker and glow in 
the upper stories, and shadows to hurry 
this way and that before them. 

We reached the door. Bidding Jacques 
stay below to watch and to come in only in 


70 A Night With Alessandro 

case of a fight, I went up the steps and 
looked in. 

The lower hall, in which burned a single 
lamp, was empty. At the farther end 
stairs ran up to a railed gallery that skirted 
the second floor, with doors on two sides. 
Directly beyond the railing, over the stairs, 
was an upper hall in which the shadows of 
several figures flitted and danced against 
the whitened walls. I went in quickly and 
mounted the stairs far enough to bring the 
figures to the level of my eyes. 

Alessandro, still in his nun’s mask, with 
Strozzi, also masked, beside him, and the 
two other men in the background. 

The Duke was gesticulating with awk- 
ward violence to the Abbess, who, with a 
crucifix in one upraised hand, her cheeks 
pale, her eyes wide and cold, her lips set in 
straight lines of determination, stood quiet 
and dignified before him. 

‘‘But I tell you, my imprudent woman,” 


The Duke’s Lead 71 

the Duke was declaiming tyrannously, ‘‘I 
am Alessandro, the Duke of Florence, and 
what I will must be. I desire to see this 
pretty novice of yours, and I’ll see her if I 
have to set the place ablaze and set the 
whole covey aflight into the gardens.” 

^^The Duke !” replied the Abbess, with a 
ring of undaunted courage in her voice. 
“You, sir, whoever you may be, are not the 
Duke. I never saw the ruling Alessandro, 
and you are clad so vilely and so blasphe- 
mously I know not who you are, nor care. 
But Alessandro, no, nor any other Duke, 
the safeguard of his people, had not dared 
to offend like this, mocking the sacred 
symbol of his Lord !” With the last words 
she advanced the crucifix slowly towards 
him with a mien that chilled the blood. 

Alessandro started back. 

“You noisy hypocrite !” he shouted, 
“mouthing of symbols and mumbling end- 
less prayers for a world you know not! 


72 A Night With Alessandro 

Why, you’ve never even seen the Duke of 
Florence. Away ! Give me the keys, or I’ll 
fetch you to my palace and strip the dirty 
meal-sack from your starved ribs and lay 
you on a bed to which your pallets were a 
couch of down. I’ll teach you torments 
that’ll make your whippings and your 
pricking-belts seem balm and unction. 
Give me the keys, I say! Here — quick, 
and leave your prating.” 

But the Abbess drew herself up stiffly, 
clutching the crucifix with one hand, whose 
tight-drawn tendons were the only sign of 
the mortal terror that had seized her. 

“Never!” she answered in a hollow voice. 
“My charge is here, my life that’s given to 
Him who healeth the wounded heart and 
poureth balm upon the riven breast. And 
as He died, so will I, true to the faith, as 
guardian of the innocent souls entrusted to 
my keeping. Back, Your Excellency, if 
the Duke you be, back from these doors be- 


The Duke’s Lead 73 

fore the curse of God shall fall upon you, 
scorching you to cinders for the violation 
of His sacred house.” 

Her voice had risen with the enthusiasm 
of a martyr’s; her unshakable self-control 
and devotion to her trust struck us all. 

For a moment all stood silent. Then the 
Duke, who had begun fairly to foam at 
the mouth, sprang forward, calling to Sal- 
viati, who came quickly to his help. To- 
gether they laid hold of her and shook her 
brutally, Alessandro crying: 

^‘The keys, you preaching cat, the keys !” 

But the hand that was behind her she held 
there with the strength of desperation, and 
the fingers that lay about the keys clung to 
them, stiff, unyielding. 

I had been so spellbound as spectator as 
to forget that I must be an actor, and at 
once. Retreating down the stairs to the 
door, I sounded sharply upon the knocker, 
calling out as I did so: 


74 A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘Ho ! Is His Excellency the Duke 
within?” 

The struggle in the upper hall ceased 
abruptly. Strozzi’s form appeared at the 
railing. 

“Who seeks the Duke?” he demanded in 
quiet tones. Then, getting a better glimpse 
of me as I hastened forward, he started 
slightly, frowned, and then smiled. 

“Monsieur d’Aubray — ^here — at such an 
hour!” he exclaimed with a cold politeness 
that did not hide his secret annoyance and 
mistrust. “To what cause do we owe this 
odd — this very odd visit?” 

“Then the Duke is here,” I cried, feign- 
ing relief from a great anxiety. “How for- 
tunate 1 Permit me to have but two words 
with His Excellency and I dare count on his 
pardon for this intrusion.” So saying I 
advanced quickly, as if confident of his 
bringing me at once to Alessandro. 

But instead Strozzi descended a couple 


The Duke’s Lead 75 

of steps, and, raising his voice that it 
might be distinctly heard by those above, 
said: 

‘‘A moment. Monsieur, if you please. 
Will you have the goodness to explain to me 
personally the accident or design which 
brings you here — a stranger — so close upon 
our heels? The precious life of His Ex- 
cellency must not be rashly exposed to the 
dangers of so equivocal a situation.” 

The insolent sang-froid and covert in- 
sinuation of this speech maddened me, but 
I held my temper with an effort, playing 
the part. 

“The life of the Dukel” I exclaimed. 
“It’s to save the Duke I’ve come. Signor; 
come in hot haste, consumed by impatience 
and harassed by the fear of finding him too 
late. His Excellency dare not venture be- 
yond the nunnery gates. Seven rascal hire- 
lings, armed, desperate, telling their blood- 
money already upon their treacherous 


76 A Night With Alessandro 

fingers, hide at the roadside in ambush for 
his life.” 

“Lucifer, king of devils!” shouted a 
voice from the hall above. “Let the man 
up, Strozzi ! Nay, aside, I say ! I’ll speak 
with him myself.” 

Strozzi yielded grimly, following me as I 
passed with a dark look. 

I bounded up the stairs, and, bonnet in 
hand, sank on one knee before the fuming 
Alessandro. 

The Abbess, released, had retired to the 
farther end of the hall, where she stood at a 
casement, telling her beads breathlessly. 
Salviati and Lorenzaccio hung still in the 
shadow. 

The Duke stood over me, the nun’s hood 
thrown back from his flushed face, the 
veins in his temples purple, his thick mouth 
pursed in an ugly pout of baffled anger. 

“Get up,” he said roughly, “and say 
your say.” 


The Duke’s Lead 77 

‘‘Your Excellency,” I cried, “a stranger, 
I reached your city tonight at sunset, bear- 
ing letters to Signor Strozzi there. I went 
to Vitelli’s ball at his suggestion. There 
I heard from my man-servant — a trusty 
fellow who fought for Charles when he took 
the city for you — that these assassins, 
coming who knows whence, had prattled in 
their wine, blabbling their errand, which is 
your Excellency’s death. I followed, 
nosing on their tracks, found them at last 
within the wood below, overheard their plan 
and watched them tell the ducats they were 
soon to pocket for Your Excellency’s 
blood.” 

“But the gates !” interrupted Alessandro. 

“I scaled the walls.” 

“And the gardens 

“I made a ladder of a tree. And so I 
came, breathless, fearing to be too late, but 
happily in time. We are but five and they 
are seven. But a paid sword is but parch- 


78 A Night With Alessandro 

merit, and, by Your Excellency’s leave, not 
one of them shall carry home a tongue to 
say he even saw you.” 

The passion of my delivery and the 
fervor of loyal allegiance which I had 
sought to throw into it, made a visible im- 
pression upon the Duke. 

^What say you, Strozzi.^^” he said, turn- 
ing to that gentleman, who had remounted 
the stairs and was standing a close listener. 
‘‘The fellow’s song rings true. Shall we 
credit this infamous tale.^^” 

Before Strozzi could reply, Salviati, who 
had crept nearer and nearer during my re- 
cital, took a quick step forward, drawing 
his sword and fencing me off from the Duke 
with it. 

“Credit it!” he shouted. “Your Excel- 
lency, the man is armed! The ruse is but 
too thin. The foreign dog is one of them 
himself, and spouts his well-conned piece 
like a parrot till he get within poniard 


The Duke’s Lead 79 

reach. I saw him at the ball, listening in 
corners and studying out his plot. He’s a 
spy, a damned spy, in French pay !” 

I started at the taunt and felt my hand 
jerk for the hilt of my sword. 

Strozzi, following Salviati’s lead, drew 
also, and stood over, back to the Duke. 

’Tis the truth, Duke,” he declared. 
‘‘The letters that he held were forged. I 
told them at the first glance. This Mon- 
sieur d’Aubray, as he calls himself, mala- 
pert and fluent, has sneaked into my 
palace aprick for news of treachery to the 
Medici !” 

Lorenzaccio, seeing his side four to one, 
joined the others, and three sword-points 
glinted in the flickering light. 

But still I did not draw. 

“You are abused, grossly abused, gentle- 
men, all of you,” I protested boldly. “Send 
but to the nunnery walls and try the truth 
of what I’ve told.” 


8o A Night With Alessandro 

“And have us trapped piece-meal?” 
sneered Salviati. “We’re no such fools, nor 
shall we even look to try the lies that scam- 
per from your throat.” 

“I swear !” cried I. 

“Swearing won’t help you, my bold blue- 
jay,” retorted Salviati. “Come, Lorenzo, 
we’ll turn him first, and trounce him first 
alone. And so with the rest, if rest there 
be.” 

He fell into position in a flash, and 
lunged before I well could pluck my sword. 

Strozzi, who at first had showed signs of 
playing a more prudent game, had been 
whispering in the ear of the Duke, who, 
frowning and pouting, was quite unequal to 
the rapidity of the scene. Lorenzo, lithe as 
a cat, sprang about me, badgering me. 

The two were a handful, and I dreaded 
the addition of Strozzi, who would have 
rendered the odds past all avail. I jangled 
my sword as loudly as I could and stamped 


The Duke’s Lead 8i 

as I lunged, meaning it as a signal for 
Jacques. But he did not come. 

The Duke was listening to Strozzi eager- 
ly, and nodding his head at each quick- 
spoken sentence. At length he swore a loud 
oath, and, pointing to me, shouted : 

‘‘At him, Strozzi. Spit him, spit him, all 
of you 

Strozzi came upon me with a rush. 

I had backed to the railing so that he 
should not flank me, and, drawing my 
poniard, I parried as I could. 

There was a springing step in the hall, 
a flash upon the stairs, and J acques knocked 
up Strozzi’s sword, which flew the length of 
the hall and fell at the side of the Abbess, 
who was watching with clasped hands and a 
heaving breast. The Abbess stooped, picked 
up the sword, and flung it through the open 
casement. 

Strozzi swore in Latin, snatched Ales- 
sandro’s sword from its scabbard and set 


82 A Night With Alessandro 

upon Jacques with the dash and sinew of a 
tiger. 

But Jacques was equal to the test. I 
had never known a swordsman even pink 
him. 

The whole play on our part was defen- 
sive. With Jacques at my side I found my 
breath, and, as I fought, I shouted clear 
and loud: 

‘‘Watch, Your Excellency ! See, I could 
have spitted him like a pullet for the roast. 
But mark, I scratch him not. And yet they 
are two to one. We but protect our- 
selves. Bid them draw off and I will 
prove past question that I spoke the 
truth.” 

“Heed him not !” cried Salviati, who was 
beside himself at not reaching me. 

“What!” piped in a shrill key Loren- 
zaccio, who, for all his paleness, had a 
steelly arm and was pressing me even harder 
than the sweating Salviati. “Believe you 


The Duke’s Lead 83 

now, my spy? Who’s this second cut- 
throat that’s just joined us?” 

‘‘He’s the devil himself !” breathed 
Strozzi, whose skill was idle. “Slash him 
from the side, Lorenzo, and we’ll join upon 
the forger.” 

Lorenzaccio obeyed, slashing at Jacques 
in the effort to beat down his guard. But 
Jacques was too quick for him. In the 
corner formed by one end of the railing and 
the wall he contrived to turn Strozzi’s 
thrusts while he kept Lorenzaccio com- 
pletely at a distance. 

“Your Excellency !” I called again, “one 
hireling saw us getting over the nunnery 
walls. If they follow, they may be even 
now upon us. Let them come ! We’ll show 
you what they’re made of. Jacques 
and I alone will drive them from the 
gardens.” 

“Braggart!” snarled Salviati. 

“On, you pack of blunderers 1” yelled the 


84 A Night With Alessandro 

Duke. ^‘What, Strozzi! — What, Lorenzo! 
Is this your boasted sword-play He kept 
hopping about in his eagerness, feeling 
nervously for his vanished hilt. 

Jacques had caught the trick of his op- 
ponent’s fence. 

‘‘Monsieur,” he breathed, “the odds will 
turn.” 

I understood. He had spied upon the 
hirelings. They were coming to the nun- 
nery. 

“Upon my life,” swore the Duke, “I’ll 
rack ye one and all for faithless dogs, ye 
toothless whelps that do but bark and can- 
not bite 1 Have at them I Thrust, Lorenzo 1 
Now, Salviati — now — now 1” 

But at that very moment, with a chorus 
of hoarse cheers, the seven stormed into the 
lower hall, swords drawn, shouting : 

“Alessandro, Alessandro !” 

“Now, Sir Duke,” I cried at the top of 
my voice, “my word is proved. Speak, and 


The Duke’s Lead 85 

we’ll clear the hall. Speak, Strozzi ! Will 
you have us with you or against you ?” 

‘‘With us!” snapped Strozzi in a flash. 
And the Duke, swearing a fearful oath, 
echoed : 

“You spoke truth, Frenchman. Fight 
for us 1” 

The hirelings, on first catching the sound 
of our voices and the clashing of our 
rapiers, had stopped, staring up at the 
railing, but on my crying out the Duke’s 
name and Strozzi’s, they charged heavily 
up the stairs, yelping like hounds upon the 
quarry. 

We had turned from one another and 
stood to meet them, making a hedge before 
the Duke — all save Lorenzaccio, who, pre- 
tending a hurt, slunk out of the way, nurs- 
ing his arm. 

Our swords were but four to the seven 
that met them. But the hirelings, clumsy 
and unskilled, and dazed to meet our points, 


86 A Night With Alessandro 

hesitated awkwardly. Then, for sheer lack 
of choice, they fell upon us wildly. 

At the first pass I felt a fat paunch and 
rolled its cursing wearer at our feet. He 
had fallen crosswise of the landing, and, 
throwing my whole weight upon the hilt, I 
send a second toppling backwards over him. 
He struck heavily on the back of his head, 
bumped to the hall below, and lay still. 

Five yet fought, smashing and thrusting 
with all their might. I had had another 
quite easily but my ^ sword doubled at his 
ribs and went scraping links of chain. 

“He’s mailed, Jacques !” I cried. 

Strozzi, who was fighting with consum- 
mate method, ran one through the neck as 
I spoke, and then, four to four, we closed 
in pairs. Jacques, narrowly dodging a 
vicious thrust, sprang past the blade of the 
one in mail, seized him by the right wrist, 
and drove his rapier downward from the 
throat into the chest. It stuck there and 


The Duke’s Lead 87 

tore out of his grip in the fall. But he 
wrenched the rapier from the hand he held 
and turned to help me. The three that re- 
mained, seeing their case desperate, made a 
dash for the stairs, shouting to one another 
to save themselves. Strozzi, Salviati, 
Jacques and I sprang after. 

‘‘Bravo howled the Duke hoarsely. 
“After them! Run them down, the cut- 
throats ! Slice them, spit them, riddle them 
every one!” 

They bounded out like deer in their 
fright. The pace left Jacques and me 
alone at their heels. 

“Can we make it, Jacques I called. 

“Yes, Monsieur,” he answered. “Say 
when.” 

I watched till they began to near the 
gate, for which they were heading. 

“Now!” I cried, and darted forward at 
top speed. 

The rearmost came within arm’s reach. 


88 A Night With Alessandro 

I jabbed fiercely at a flying leg and spitted 
it. The fellow plunged over with a thud 
and lay swearing and kicking. A blow 
under the ear with my poniard finished 
him. 

Strozzi and Salviati had gone by. 
Jacques was already far ahead. I fol- 
lowed. 

All at once I could see the two that led 
swerve, one to either side. Jacques, with his 
impetus, ran on half past them, and two 
sword points flashed at his sides. But he 
leapt into the air like a startled buck, struck 
one sword far into the shrubbery and met 
the other with a parry and a pass that 
stretched the man writhing by the side of 
the road. Strozzi and Salviati fell upon 
the last, who had but his poniard. Coming 
up, I joined them. In a moment he was 
down and we were standing over him, our 
three sword-points sticking in his body. 

Without a word we strode back to- 


The Duke’s Lead 89 

wards the nunnery, sheathing our swords. 
Jacques and I fell a little behind. 

‘‘Monsieur will now require finesse,” re- 
marked Jacques, “to which this was mere 
bungling.” 

“They shall not see Blanche Lamont,” I 
whispered. Then a thought struck me. 
“Get the keys from the Abbess,” I added, 
“and keep them at all cost.” 

“Yes, Monsieur,” he replied simply. 

The others had stopped, waiting for us to 
come up. There was time for no more 
words between us. 

In the lower hall the four we had slain 
lay huddled in a heap. Above, we found 
the Duke and Lorenzaccio sitting at a 
table, their cousinly heads together. As I 
drew near the Duke rose, with studied bon- 
homie, and extended a hand. 


CHAPTER IV. 


«W' 


IT IRevofte* 

'HOEVER you are,” he said, 
‘you fenced as I never saw 
men fence in all my life, you 
and your man Jacques.” 

It was not thanks, but perhaps it was as 
near it as a Medici and a Duke could come. 
So I thought then in my simplicity. 

I could not take the hand, but bowed low, 
pretending not to see it. 

“And now,” continued the Duke, his eye 
wandering to Lorenzaccio, who still sat 
watching him like a cat, “we are six in- 
stead of four, and should not long be hin- 
dered at our object. Will you believe it. 
Monsieur, this fanatical woman,” pointing 
to the Abbess, who had not moved from the 
casement, “this subject of ours, refuses to 
deliver the keys of the aviary to me, the 


I Revoke 91 

Duke of Florence? What say you? Shall 
we have a look at the nuns ? Have you the 
graces of a gallant as well as the mettle of 
a soldier? I tell you, the fairest novice in 
all Italy wastes her beauty in these cellar 
walls. We’ll pay our compliments to her, 
hey, Strozzi? Come, Abbess — the keys!” 

The Abbess made no sign, and the Duke, 
flushing red in his quick choler, was about 
to burst into another tirade of abuse. 

But I had heard enough. 

‘‘Your Excellency,” I said, taking a step 
forward. 

He jerked about upon me with a frown. 
The others started, and Strozzi, whose eyes 
never left me for an instant, smiled with an 
air of satisfaction. I suppose there was 
something in my tone that told him what I 
was about to say. 

“Speak,” said the Duke shortly. 

“We have done our poor best, my fellow 
Jacques and I,” I continued. “Ten days in 


92 A Night With Alessandro 

the saddle with little sleep, and now, to- 
night, what strength we had remaining 
spent in the service of Your Excellency. I 
crave permission to retire. We are too 
weary for aught but a bed.” 

the Virgin,” exclaimed the Duke in 
rough jest, ‘^are there not beds here 
a-plenty, nor cold ones either, that you 
should go to sleep alone Join us and I 
promise you the pick of the covey, the 
marvelous Blanche excepted. Yes, you’ve 
earned your share in the royal sport. Mon- 
sieur. Why, your man Jacques, too, shall 
choose a novice for himself. What say you, 
my man.^ A chaste nun, now, is the very 
salt of womankind.” 

My gorge rose at the villainy of the man 
before me, but I waited, facing him coolly. 

‘‘I fear I am no gallant. Sir Duke,” I 
replied. ^‘In France men sue with deeds of 
chivalry. Such wholesale conquests are 
the privilege of sovereigns only.” 


I Revoke 


21 

“Oho!” ejaculated Alessandro with a 
start. “So you’re another prating spoil- 
sport like that baggage there! Enough! 
You shall not go. Either take part or sit 
and watch the chase. Such scary game you 
never hunted, that I’ll warrant ye.” 

“I crave permission to retire, Your Ex- 
cellency,” I repeated steadily. 

“And I refuse it,” snapped the Duke. 
“Come, Strozzi — no, you, Lorenzo. Fetch 
the Abbess hither and let me reason with 
her.” 

But Lorenzaccio, where he sat behind the 
table, either heard or heeded not. 

“If I stay,” said I, “it will not be to 
watch your sport. Sir Duke.” 

Alessandro wheeled to me again. 

“What then?” he inquired ironically. 
“You’re one of us?” 

“Nay,” I answered, signalling Jacques, 
who thereupon began to stroll in the direc- 
tion of the Abbess. “I am so unfortunate 


94 A Night With Alessandro 

as to appear to-night always in opposition 
to Your Excellency.” 

‘^In opposition.^” grunted Alessandro, 
pursing his thick lips. ‘^By Bacchus, what 
do you mean.?” 

‘‘I will neither help nor look on,” I re- 
peated, speaking slowly to give Jacques 
time. He was whispering to the Abbess. 

‘^What then.?” demanded Alessandro. 

Jacques nodded. 

‘‘I’ll do what I can to hinder you, Sir 
Duke,” I cried. 

He flew at me with his fist in the air. 
Lorenzaccio rose from the table. Salviati 
and Strozzi drew and sprang between us. 

“Courage, Monsieur !” rang a rich, deep 
woman’s voice from some door about the 
gallery. “God give you strength!” 

Jacques was beside me in a bound. 
Lorenzaccio sprang with his bared sword 
across the table. 

“Remember !” I cried, “if ill should 


I Revoke 


95 

chance of this I’m innocent of blame. 
You’re attacking me in a bad cause, two to 
one, in return for saving your lives. A 
ducal thanks !” 

Alessandro could not stomach the taunt. 
Grabbing the sword out of Lorenzaccio’s 
hand, he shoved him to one side, calling : 

^^Strozzi — Salviati, stand ye back! I’ll 
fight the barefaced knave alone.” 

They protested in vain. He swore he 
would put them to the torture if they so 
much as stirred a foot. 

My anger passed all bounds. Of course 
I was not going to kill the Duke. That 
was not part of my instructions. And of 
course I was not going to let myself be 
killed by the Duke, for the same reason. 

‘^On guard I” cried Alessandro. 

‘‘Shall I help. Monsieur.?” cried Jacques, 
as I drew and engaged the wild blade that 
lunged at me so viciously. 

“No — is it right.?” I asked. 


96 A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘Yes — here,” he replied. 

“Then watch,” said I, “and be ready to 
make for the door.” 

Then I turned my whole mind to my an- 
tagonist. 

He was no fencer, but a dangerous man ; 
heavy, powerful and tricky. There was no 
trusting to the common ways of sword- 
play ; he had a manner of his own. 

“Come on !” I cried; “come on. Your Ex- 
cellency, and while you whittle at me. I’ll 
tell you something of your friends there. 

“First, Signor Salviati, in my hearing, 
insulted tonight the daughter of Signor 
Strozzi, so that methinks her father scarce 
dare rest while he shall live.” 

Strozzi turned quickly to Salviati, and 
the two men, who, as I think, hated one an- 
other, stood eye to eye, breathing hard. 

“Next, Signor Strozzi, there, the Court 
flatterer, is thick with Cardinal Ippolito, 
who sent the seven that lie dead.” 


I Revoke 97 

The Duke blanched white as parchment, 
and Strozzi, flushing scarlet, cried out: 

‘•A lie, a knavish lie 1’’ 

^‘Next the Philosopher, Lorenzaccio, ar- 
rayed like Brutus at the ball, threatened to 
take Your Excellency’s life with his own 
hand.” 

Lorenzaccio cowered, clenching his flsts 
and gnawing his thin lips. 

‘^Now I, what have I done.?^ Pve risked 
my life twice for you: once for the sake of 
your body and once for the sake of your 
soul. Come on. Sir Duke! Kill the true 
friend if you can; carouse and revel with 
the false; till one has bled you and the 
others dance for glee, hailing him hero and 
the freer of the Florentines! 

^‘What ? Can’t you reach me ? There — 
nearer. Again! You’re the Duke of Flor- 
ence. Can’t you butcher me for sport as 
you would dishonor this house of 
virgins 


98 A Night With Alessandro 

‘Xook out for the little devil in 
black!” cried Jacques, thrusting out a 
foot. 

I glanced aside, but it was too late. 
Lorenzaccio, who must have crept up 
stealthily, had thrown his scabbard, with its 
dangling straps, between my legs and 
darted out of reach again. I tripped, was 
down, with Salviati at my throat, his knee 
upon my chest. 

“Stop the other!” blurted Strozzi, and I 
knew that J acques had bolted. I saw Loren- 
zaccio balance his poniard by the tip for 
a throw. 

“Duck !” I shouted, almost choking. 

The poniard sprang into the air, but 
struck wood. 

“A souvenir !” Jacques shouted back 
from the door. He had taken it with him. 

Alessandro, who fancied, I think, that he 
had bested me by sheer skill of his own, 
stood by with a grin of conceit, and 


I Revoke 


watched, while Salviati held me and Loren- 
zaccio bound my hands painfully with a 
couple of sword belts. Then he bade me 
get up. I stood eying him. 

The four confronted me in evil mood 
with one another because of my taunts that 
had gone home, and hot to be even with me. 
But the scowl of Salviati, the gleaming eye 
of Lorenzaccio, the triumphant grin upon 
the Duke’s ugly mouth, were naught in com- 
parison with the cold and smooth intentness 
of Strozzi’s secretive features. As I looked 
full at him I was convinced that he had 
been the chief mover thus far against me, 
and that he had set his fertile mind at work 
upon a plan to crush me utterly. 

^‘Sit him there,” commanded Alessandro, 
pointing to a bench beside the table. ‘^He 
would not watch the sport ; now let him hear 
it at least.” 

Then he went to the Abbess and de- 
manded the keys. 


L tfC. 


loo A Night With Alessandro 

“I have them no longer, Your Excel- 
lency,” she said. 

‘^It’s a lie,” he retorted. ‘^Come, hand 
them over.” 

She turned to him, her empty, trembling 
hands outstretched, her thin, pale cheeks 
flushed a little with the consciousness of 
victory. 

‘‘I have them not,” she said simply, and 
Alessandro believed her. 

He returned to Strozzi disconcerted. But 
the latter pointed a finger at me. 

‘‘This is your doing, d’Aubray,” said he. 
“I saw your man speak with the Abbess.” 
Then to the Duke: “Depend upon it. Your 
Excellency, the lackey has taken the keys 
with him. If Salviati had not bungled so 
we had had them both instead of this one 
only, and he without the keys.” 

Salviati, on the point of replying, raised 
one hand towards Lorenzaccio, as if to lay 
the guilt for Jacques’s escape upon him. 




I Revoke 

lOI 


But the Duke waved him aside, and, coming 
up to the table where I sat, demanded : 

“Do you think your fellow took the 
keys?” 

“He did if he obeyed me,” I replied. 

“Then you planned the whole move ?” 

I shrugged my shoulders. 

“What shall we do with him?” he asked, 
again appealing to Strozzi. 

“The sport is spoilt, I suppose,” re- 
turned the latter. 

“The doors are too strong and too 
many,” admitted the Duke, with a wave of 
his arm about the gallery. “They’re as 
safe as in their graves. Unless, indeed, we 
fire the place?” 

“I don’t like that knave’s cutting,” an- 
swered Strozzi doubtfully. “The rogue has 
the wits of a Macchiavelli. The sooner we 
leave, the better. Your Excellency.” 

This counsel puzzled me completel}^ and 
I watched Strozzi closely. 


102 A Night With Alessandro 

it hadn’t been for him — ” muttered 
the Duke, glaring at me malevolently. 

‘‘Well, why not let him pay for it,” sug- 
gested Strozzi, coolly. 

Alessandro, but half comprehending, 
knit his brows. 

“Come home, all of you, with me,” ex- 
plained Strozzi, raising his voice, “and have 
the cost of our disappointment out of this 
meddlesome Frenchman here. I’ve all that’s 
needed for an hour of judicial examina- 
tion.” 

“Bravo!” agreed the Duke with an ap- 
preciative slap of his thigh. 

Salviati and Lorenzaccio exchanged 
looks of glee. 

Strozzi’s pretended annoyance over the 
disappearance of Jacques grew intelligible. 
I knew well enough what awaited me at the 
Strozzi Palace. 

They made me get up and go out with 
them. 


I Revoke 103 

Strozzi and the Duke walked first, then I, 
then Salviati and Lorenzaccio. They spoke 
together in low tones, and I could not fol- 
low. I was left to my thoughts. 

They were gloomy enough. True, I had 
Charles’s ring, but I had no free hand to use 
it, and besides, I felt it grown powerless, as 
if they had stolen it from me. It was clear 
that Strozzi had bethought himself of a 
way to involve me past all help in the 
meshes of my letters and pretence. What 
could Charles have known of the deeps of 
Italian revenge.? 

I had accomplished my immediate end. 
They had not seen Blanche Lamont. What 
a splendid voice she had, I thought ; so full 
and clear and courageous 1 But only for 
tonight. At the next attempt what de- 
fender would she find.? The nunnery I had 
left was no more safe from a whim of Ales- 
sandro than the house of the Lady Lucia’s 
husband. The Lady Lucia! I wondered 


104 A Night With Alessandro 

if Jacques’s bit of gossip could be put to 
use. I had tried to set the Duke against 
them, above all, against Strozzi. That would 
serve me now but ill. In his own palace 
Strozzi might punish me at his leisure. If 
the Duke felt inclined to credit my imputa- 
tion upon him, he would go quietly to work. 
For the time he would keep Strozzi at his 
side. I began to get some inkling of the 
Italian method. It was far from consoling. 

The Duke’s voice rose a little. 

‘‘Depend upon it,” he was saying, “the 
other will give back the keys as soon as 
we’re well out of hearing. I’ll send a few of 
my guards to fetch the jade to the palace.” 

“Hush !” whispered Strozzi, glancing 
over his shoulder. 

I kept my eyes upon the ground, pre- 
tending to be completely crushed. 

“The spunk’s gone out of him now,” I 
heard him mutter, and the Duke laughed. 

We were walking fast. In fifteen min- 


I Revoke 


IQ5 

utes we would be at the palace. What would 
they do to me, or rather, what would Strozzi 
do? I fell to sorting the facts. 

My letter of introduction had made me 
known to Strozzi as one M. Gaspard 
d’Aubray, a French gentleman of means 
who enjoyed for the moment the fickle and 
dangerous favor of Francis. But I was by 
no means that gentleman. D’Aubray was 
ten years my elder, a coward knave, twice 
married and the father of a family ; while 
I was single still, a soldier of fortune. 
What would he make of that? He knew I 
was not d’Aubray ; whom did he think me ? 
I could not imagine. But I felt tolerably 
sure he would count upon my continuing in 
the part. And what would he do to me as 
Gaspard d’Aubray? Would he try to com- 
promise me in some way over the affairs of 
Francis and post me off to him a traitor? 
Would he be content with humiliating me 
before the Duke as a clumsy bungler, too 


io6 A Night With Alessandro 

simple to carry a secret or discharge a 
trust? Or would he just badger me on the 
charge of attempting the Duke’s life and 
end by inducing Alessandro to put me out 
of the way? All was conjecture. At all 
events, I scented a harassing ordeal and 
strove as best I could to prepare myself for 
it. Many dangers I had seen, and many 
times fought in Charles’s service. But that 
had been always in the open, under a free 
heaven, with the noise of trumpets in my 
ears and the ribs of a war-horse fast be- 
tween my knees. That was a rush and a 
glory where one drew in courage with the 
breath and counted the risk but as a heady 
exercise. But this — ^this was all night, 
silence, concealment ; this was Florence, and 
my enemies were two Medici, a Strozzi and 
a godless rake. As we drew near to the 
stern, cold walls of the palace, the flesh 
crept upon me and the roots of my hair 
stirred uncannily. For the first time in all 


I Revoke 1 07 

my adventures I felt the need of willing not 
to play the coward. Again the voice of 
Blanche Lamont sounded in my ears : 
^‘Courage !” 

I had good need of it now. 


CHAPTER V. 


1 Bm JBrou^bt to tbe palace* 

I N the hall of the palace all fell silent. 
Strozzi made a sign to Tomasso, and 
the next moment I saw nothing, but 
felt a tight pressure about the eyes and 
forehead. Salviati’s strong hands pushed 
me forward. 

‘‘Steps,” he whispered presently, and we 
began to descend. 

Our shoes sounded upon stones. After 
several windings in what I took to be the 
basement, a key rattled and they led me 
through a doorway. Behind me the door 
fell to with a bang, and the key rattled 
again. 

They had left me alone, I thought, as I 
stood quite still. Then there was a pull at 
the bandage and my eyes popped open to 
meet the flare of a couple of torches and the 


I Am Brought to the Palace 109 

faces of three of my companions that 
seemed to bob up and down before me upon 
the long bench where they sat. 

A quick glance about told me that we 
were in a long, low-vaulted room, whose 
stone walls were hung with sombre tapes- 
tries. Beside me stood a bare wooden table. 

At a gesture of Alessandro’s, Salviati re- 
moved my sword belt with its empty scab- 
bard, and my poniard, which he carried to 
the other end of the room and locked in a 
closet. 

I noticed that the hilt of my own sword 
was sticking out of the Duke’s scabbard. 

Then Salviati came back and undid my 
wrists. The sensation had long since left 
my arms; they dropped to my sides limp 
and dead. 

Alessandro nodded to Strozzi. 

‘‘Draw nearer, Gaspard d’Aubray,” said 
the latter in an even voice that had an evil 
boding. 


iio A Night With Alessandro 

So he intended to accept the letter, I 
thought, as I went and stood before them. 

‘‘Make a bow,” said Strozzi. 

I held myself erect and stiff. 

The Banker flushed. 

“As you please,” he assented smoothly, 
eying me up and down with the cold glance 
I had marked in the study. Then he 
glanced at the Duke, who nodded again. 

Lorenzaccio, on the other side of the 
Duke, sat silent, intent, absorbed, and mo- 
tionless save for a slow mechanical opening 
and shutting of his mouth which got dis- 
agreeably upon my nerves. 

“Monsieur d’Aubray,” began Strozzi 
afresh, “it is the Duke’s pleasure to assign 
to me the painful duty of calling you to 
account for your gravely ill behavior. 
There are several charges. First, your 
coming to my palace introduced by lies, 
and spying to the great abuse of hospi- 
tality. But that is a private charge and I 


I Am Brought to the Palace 1 1 1 

let it drop for weightier things that touch 
affairs of State.” 

I could not but smile at this smooth 
masking of his private hate. He saw that 
I understood. 

^‘Second,” he went on, ^‘your prying at 
the ball and false concern for the Duke’s 
life, which we loyal subjects are not wont to 
leave unguarded. 

“Third, your interruption of His Ex- 
cellency in the enjoyment of his pleasures. 

“Fourth, your attack upon the persons 
of the Duke’s companions — or, may I say 
friends. Your Excellency.^” 

“Yes, yes — friends, of course,” nodded 
Alessandro. 

“Upon the persons of the Duke’s 
friends,” repeated Strozzi, with an em- 
phasis at which I smiled again. 

“Fifth, the purloining of the nunnery 
keys,” he continued. 

I laughed outright. 


1 1 2 A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘Silence !” roared the Duke. 

Strozzi remained a moment still. 

“Sixth,” he said at last, “your attack 
upon the life of the Duke himself. 

“Now—” 

“Your pardon. Signor,” I interrupted 
quickly. “Isn’t there another charge — 
seventh, my telling of unpleasant truths to 
a hated master?” 

Lorenzaccio writhed in his seat and 
Salviati, who stood at my elbow, made as if 
to strike me. 

“Silence, you insolent trickster!” roared 
the Duke again, gripping the cushions for 
very ecstasy of wrath. 

But Strozzi sat still and cool. He had 
apparently expected that. 

“Now,” he began once more, raising his 
voice a little, so that it rang clearly 
through the long room, making an echo, 
“I call you to account, according to the 
laws of Florence and the usages. You have 


I Am Brought to the Palace 113 

chosen to steal the name of a worthier. It is 
the pleasure of the Duke that you continue 
to bear that name and be handled accord- 
ingly. For in his wisdom he has decreed 
that the appropriate punishment for an 
acted lie is to go on acting it. Do you 
still insist that we are to regard you 
as Gaspard d’Aubray, momentarily the 
favorite of Francis, King of France.?” 

I answered nothing. The Duke puffed 
out his cheeks and twirled his thumbs in 
conceit over the wisdom of the decree which 
was, I felt sure, as new to him as to me. 

‘‘Good!” went on Strozzi, after a short 
pause. “The fitting penalty is therefore 
trial upon the rack, a process of attaining 
truth which is in every sense as admirable 
as it is infallible. But before we proceed I 
have the pleasure to inform you that His 
Excellency, in consideration of your assis- 
tance in routing the ruffians at the nunnery, 
has vouchsafed an alternative. In place of 


114 A Night With Alessandro 

the rack you may choose immediate mar- 
riage with the signorina, whose cause you 
have so knightly, if mistakenly, espoused.” 

I had caught his drift now. He knew I 
would neither prove myself a liar by de- 
claring myself another than d’Aubray nor 
force myself upon a woman that had never 
seen me. The alternative was just such a 
Satanic suggestion as was to be expected of 
the man. I held quiet, trying to gather my 
courage for what was to come. 

The Duke and Lorenzaccio were bending 
forward in suspense. 

^^Have you chosen. Monsieur d’Aubray?” 
inquired Strozzi at last. 

‘T am no Italian, Signor,” said I. “For 
a French gentleman there is no choice.” 

“And which does the French gentle- 
man take.'^” he demanded politely with a 
sneer. 

“Go to the devil !” I cried in a fury, “and 
get to your butcher’s work.” 


I Am Brought to the Palace 1 1 5 

The Duke bounced from his seat, beside 
himself. 

‘^Salviati ! — Lorenzo !” he cried, ‘^lay him 
down quick ! No, strip him first. Off with 
his boots and coat! So. Now his waist- 
coat! So. No — his shirt doesn’t matter, 
nor his hose. Stretch him, stretch him 
quick! I’ll turn the screws with my own 
hands. The rebellious scoundrel! Aha! 
We know that tune, don’t we, Strozzi — 
what.^^ It’s ^go on’ at first; and then it’s 
^pity, in God’s name.’ Ay, ay, they’re the 
prettiest things in Florence, these pincers 
and these twisting irons ! Good ! So. Aha ! 
my cock, we’ll see how long the bold crow’ll 
last ! Ha ! do you f eel it now ? How’s that ? 
Give it a turn, Salviati, can’t you !” 

I had let them lay me there as they would 
upon the long table that had looked so 
harmless and bare. My thumbs and great 
toes were caught in the clutch of the vices 
and I gave to the tension that stretched me. 


1 16 A Night With Alessandro 

as I swear there’s not a man alive that would 
not. 

Strozzi sat yet upon the bench ; I could 
see his face from the corner of my eye. In 
his silence and reserve his zest was far 
keener than Alessandro’s, for all the latter’s 
oaths and stamping. 

“Turn, Salviati,” directed the Duke, 
“and mind you use your muscle better than 
you did your wits in the sword-play. Livers 
and lights, Lorenzo! where’s your head- 
work now? Don’t you know the toes and 
thumbs must pull together if you would get 
a leverage? Tighten here now. Aha! he 
winces — more, more !” 

“You lie, Duke,” I said, as steadily as I 
could ; “I winced not.” 

“You winced not, hey? Well, on my 
oath! Out of the way, both of you! I’ll 
manage you alone.” 

And well he might, for I lay at his mercy, 
the joints already drawing apart. 


I Am Brought to the Palace 1 1 7 

A loud knock sounded on the door. 

Alessandro started back as if caught in 
some guilty deed, blinking in the smoke of 
the torches. 

‘Who’s there.?” he called, but Strozzi 
cried: “It’s Tomasso,” and going to the 
door asked : “What is it .?” 

“A message — posthaste,” came the an- 
swer. 

The lock turned and I could hear the 
crackle of parchment. 

“For the Duke,” remarked Strozzi, 
coming back with a letter and handing it to 
Alessandro. 

“Ten thousand furies!” stormed the 
latter, tearing open the sheet. “If any of 
these infatuated women” — but he stopped 
as his eye caught the lines, and read in 
silence. 

Then he handed the sheet to Strozzi, 
who glanced at it and folded it with a 
shrug. 


I 1 8 A Night With Alessandro 

^‘He’s right,” declared Alessandro : 
^^Vitelli’s right. We’re fools to waste the 
precious time till dawn upon this stagey im- 
postor. Come, all of you ! Back to the 
ball ! Time enough for this in Lent. We’ll 
go for an hour or so and see the end of the 
fun. We’ve thrown away two mortal hours 
already — thanks to this pig-headed boaster 
here. Come! Quick — away! 

“Now, Monsieur d’Aubray,” he con- 
tinued, turning to me with the hellish light 
a-flicker in his eyes, “we’ll leave you here a 
while to think upon your bargain. Rest 
sure, we’ll find you tame enough on our re- 
turn. Lie and think of your sins and the 
Lord — what is it, Lorenzo ^ — ^the Lord have 
mercy on your soul. Aha! He may, and 
welcome. You’ll get none of that cheap 
commodity here. Mercy’s for fool subjects 
that haven’t power. Lie and wriggle your- 
self out of your dirty pride.” 

I could see that Strozzi was not keen to 


I Am Brought to the Palace 1 1 9 

go. But he well knew the Duke would hear 
of no objections. 

“Shall we leave Salviati.?” he asked. 

“Hell, no!” cried the Duke. “What.^^ 
And keep him from his taste of the ball.^ 
He’d never forgive us. Besides, I’d not 
trust him here alone. Ha! ha! the rascal 
would have the trickster fairly flayed alive, 
with his limbs in the four corners of the 
room. Nay, nay! We’ll not spoil his 
sport, nor shall he ours. Are we ready 
Adieu, my cock ! Come !” 

They left the room noisily. Without, I 
could hear the Duke call to Tomasso, de- 
manding the key. Then the tramp of their 
feet died out and I was left alone. 


CHAPTER VI. 


IT Bm %ctt to IReflecttona^ 

W ITH the stillness, my plight came 
upon me with a rush. The drag 
upon my joints made me sick as 
from the tossing of the sea, and a giddiness 
swam over me, wave upon wave. Save that 
I would not, I had begun to gag and retch 
as if I had eaten of some loathsome victual 
that rose at the thought of it. As long as 
the others were there it had been a matter of 
mere pride to lie without a sign and let 
them draw me to the angles of the rack. 
But now, alone, with only the deaf walls to 
hear, I had gladly raved and shouted as I 
have in battle when my horse had fallen at 
the charge and I had scrambled to my feet, 
bruised and shaken, to face a hedge of 
Turks with flaming scimitars. But I set 
my teeth, swearing I would not. How could 


I Am Left to My Reflections 121 

I know if some one were not posted at the 
door to count my cries and carry them to 
Strozzi? 

A sweat sprang out upon me, trickling 
down my face and limbs and oozing into my 
clothes, where they pressed upon the table. 
Each breath my lungs drove out with 
their mechanical contraction threatened, it 
seemed, to part me in twain across the mid- 
dle. I tried only to breathe in ; it seemed to 
make me longer. But the throbbing of my 
heart grew harder and harder, and in my 
ears began a buzzing as of the rush of some 
wild stream overhead. A stream, the open 
air, the daylight, movement, effort, battle! 
Would these ever be mine to enjoy again? 
Would they make an end of me in their 
brutal delight in pain? Strozzi might well 
carry his vengeance as far as that. Oh, 
better the death of a soldier a thousand 
times — a death unseen, unknown, un- 
counted. What was the warrior’s death? 


122 A Night With Alessandro 

A flash of swords, a rear of shrieking steed, 
two eyes that glared to meet you, brain to 
brain and hate to hate, a whirl, a plunge 
into the darkness. I had seen scores fall 
beside me so and deemed them happy. 
What was death to me ? Alone, a soldier of 
fortune, the paid sword of many a prince’s 
pique or woman’s whim, I had never feared 
it, nay, I had sought it, having naught else 
to seek. But to die so, the plaything of a 
Strozzi and a Medici! I would not die. 
The life I had scorned and could not lose 
was yet too good to give them for revenge. 
I cared not for the Emperor’s ring. Strozzi 
might do his worst ; might maim me, brand 
me, what he would. He should not find me 
falter at my choice. I had told the truth in 
a word; I was no Italian, no craven that 
held his skin dearer than his honor. 

A dryness in my throat began to choke 
me so that I scarce could swallow. A new 
pang shot through my spine, now up, now 


I Am Left to My Reflections 123 

down, shaking my body and jerking at my 
extremities as if some unseen hand were 
turning at the screws. 

What a fool I had been to bring myself 
to this! And all for a freak of senseless 
chivalry that in the end could profit 
nothing. I, of all men, to risk my freedom, 
life, for some mere stranger woman! Had 
I not learned enough of women in half a 
dozen tongues Were they not all faith- 
less, all weak, all cowardly.^ All save one, 
and she was French, and dead — my sister. 
She alone had kept her heart and her head 
and held true; there was no other. Nor 
Spanish Andalusian with her lust of idle- 
ness and boastful song ; nor yellow-haired 
man-woman of the Germans, an Amazon 
with a grating tongue ; nor Oriental, veiled, 
dark, serpentine, odorous flesh ; nor Tuscan, 
lithe and slender, passionate, fickle; nor 
English maid, ripe, round and loyal, if you 
like, but dead to romance, a passive breeder 


124 ^ Night With Alessandro 

of men ; no, not one of them all had held a 
charm longer than the hour or called to 
memory across the borders of her land. 
And yet for this French Blanche, who must 
be like the rest save for her proper eyes 
and the chance magic of a pleasant speech, 
I had risked the trust of Charles and 
brought myself where I was. 

And yet her voice ! Only that slight ap- 
peal made it worth while. But why.?^ She 
had no claim upon me, knew me not, was 
only one of many in her plight. Why, if 
she had had the red blood in her, and the 
courage of it, she had not sought a useless, 
witless, endless life behind those cheerless, 
narrow walls. Was it not contradiction 
enough to be a woman Would nothing do 
but turning nun, a creature of light and 
music stilled to a cold shadow, droning 
sterile prayers? 

A numbness stole inch by inch along one 
of my legs and retreated with a thousand 


I Am Left to My Reflections 125 

needle-pricks. It was worse than the tear- 
ing at the joints. I had given a year of 
life — if I had it still to give — to spring up 
but for a moment and walk the room a 
dozen times, were it only to lie down again. 

Where was Jacques.? He would move 
heaven and earth to get me out of this ; but 
could he move a Medici or a Strozzi? Be- 
sides, if the Duke had sent his guards to 
fetch Blanche hither, might he not be taken ; 
might he not be even now as ill-circum- 
stanced as I? Yet he was so prudent and 
sagacious. I knew he would come to me 
even here in time. I swore he should not 
come in vain; I would not disappoint him 
by letting these scoundrels hound me out of 
my life. 

How long had they been gone.? I dared 
not trust my wish that it was an hour. I 
knew scarce quarter of that time had 
passed, and the ordeal had only begun. But 
could it last.? Had Nature no mercy, that 


126 A Night With Alessandro 

she let the very marrow shrivel up and kept 
the brain alive to feel it burning? If only 
I could faint, even for a short minute, and 
come to myself with a new will! It had 
seemed so easy at first to say, ‘^I will” and 
^^I will not.” But then I had been myself and 
fresh taken from my freedom. Now I had 
no self at all. I was but a hundred points 
of agony. Only my reason told me that I 
had a head, a body, limbs, and that I was 
lord of them. I could not feel it as of 
wont. There was the figure of a man out- 
stretched upon a table, pale, sweating, with 
a furrow in his forehead like a gash and 
eyes that glared about, hot, restless, wrath- 
ful. Suddenly he was I, or I was he, and I 
looked about for the other that had stood 
and stared upon me. But there was no one 
— nothing but the ache, and the flaring 
torches, and their smoke that stank and set 
my eyes an-itching. 

What was Jacques about? Had he fol- 


I Am Left to My Reflections i 27 

lowed, he had long since gained admission 
by the help of Laura. But no ; Laura was 
still at Vitelli’s, serving the last of the dain- 
ties to the guests, perhaps to the leering 
Duke himself, or to Strozzi with his cour- 
teous smile and the stony rancor of his 
heart. She could not let Jacques in; he 
could not come to me. 

But perhaps he had not followed. Per- 
haps he had stayed at the nunnery, trying 
to plan a way to carry Blanche beyond the 
reach of Alessandro. Perhaps he had al- 
ready gone with her somewhere, fulfilling 
my wish that had brought me there, and 
here. 

I longed for Strozzi to come back, and 
called myself a fool for the wish. What 
had I to expect from him? Only a turn of 
the straining screws that dragged me now. 
Another hair, I thought, would tear me into 
four, rooting limbs from trunk. And yet I 
wished it. It would be a fight at least, a 


128 A Night With Alessandro 

duel of will to will. That were better than 
this empty struggle with my weakness, in 
which victory was no victory and failure 
no release. 

But would they ever come.^ And what 
would be my state if they tarried till the 
sunlight Would my parched tongue find 
no answer to their gibes; would my will, 
that struggled even now to take flight, 
have flown and left me worse than dead, the 
mere body of a coward? 

What an infamous suggestion Strozzi’s 
had been; how devilishly planned! I was 
to choose this or declare myself a liar 
and a weakling, a spy and the meanest 
of all things on earth, an unchivalrous 
man. 

Then the absurdity of the alternative 
struck me all at once, and I laughed 
aloud, a strange mocking laugh that 
sprang back from the walls with a thunder- 
ing in my ears. Ay, that was the way to 


I Am Left to My Reflections 1 29 

marry after all ! At the worst it could be 
but a bad marriage like most I had known, 
and at best — well, it was just possible that 
the sheer bravado of the hazard might win 
that rarest of all prizes, a wife that does 
not long for liberty. 

It had been an adventure indeed to com- 
pel the hand of Blanche on the chance of 
finding her heart within it. For, when it 
came to the point, I could think of no more 
appropriate fashion of choosing one’s bride 
than doing it blindfold. That would at all 
events avert the sore ordeal of undeception, 
the mockery of frustrated precepts, the 
remorse of a heart deliberately enslaved. 
The worst would be the expected and so 
stoically to be borne. 

But after all the thought revolted me. 
Were Blanche of a color with her speech, 
I had not held my head up afterwards for 
very shame; and if she contradicted it, 
what loathing to confront the real beside 


130 A Night With Alessandro 

the ideal image I had made by playing on 
those Gallic intonations ! 

If she came now and stood beside me, if 
she but called me “Courage” as before, the 
torment of my body had been less. I had 
missed what men call love in the rush of 
sterner things, and yet I had an inkling of 
a worth beneath the skin that masks a 
woman. I felt myself an outcast from a 
world which I had summed with daring and 
a sword. 

The lucky Jacques was better off than I. 
Scarce a town or a tavern that left him not 
agape over the charms of some unrivalled 
belle. He had loved so much and so many, 
though I was poor only for setting a higher 
price upon the gem he found so cheap. Was 
that love, that raving, headless burst of elo- 
quence over curves that blend smooth, pearl 
teeth, eyes that are moonbeams, a mouth 
whose claim on destiny is a kiss? Was it 
love to swear each comely wench the crown- 


I Am Left to My Reflections 1 3 1 

ing glory of her sex and age ; to flatter her, 
pamper her, cozen her, leave her, blubber- 
ing one’s eyes out past the turn of the road ? 
Ugh ! I had heard the camp-fire’s ribaldry 
as each loud strippling would rehearse the 
prowess that had gained him this one’s 
favor here and that one’s there, till he had 
torn himself away like errant Jupiter, rain- 
ing gold. 

A new resolve wrote itself quickly in my 
brain. I had but tasted the cup of life. 
There was something to live for that I had 
missed, and I would live till I had found it. 
Nor would I let a mere crotchet of pride 
chain me here to this cruel bed. I had 
wasted too much time already and never 
even thought to free myself. Jacques was 
at work with might and main to get to me, 
while I lay like a helpless Indian, bending 
to fate instead of coping with it. 

I strained at the chains, caring naught 
for the pain of them. But they held and 


132 A Night With Alessandro 

seemed to tug the stiff er at my toes and 
thumbs. I craned my head upwards and 
forwards to take a look about. 

There were only the long walls, tapes- 
tried, the bench on which the three had sat, 
and behind that a loose hung drapery of 
embroidered stuff like the setting of a 
throne. To the sides I could see nothing 
but the torches and a few more yards of 
tapestry. The door was far behind me, out 
of sight. I studied each square foot of all 
that I could see. 

At one point, not far to the right, I 
thought the tapestry hung divided, but the 
dodging of the flame that came between, 
and the smart of the smoke in my eyes, 
made it uncertain. There was the door of 
the closet where Salviati had locked away 
my belt and poniard and, a little further 
on the same side, a smudge of shadow on a 
square of blank white masonry. 

What was that shadow — a strip of cloth. 


I Am Left to My Reflections 133 

a mantle hanging on a nail, a cupboard in 
the wall? I blinked and screwed my eyes, 
turning my head in various angles, search- 
ing the spot with tantalized intentness. 
There was just one other thing I could 
make out of it. It might be an opening 
seen edgewise. I lay my head down again, 
panting. What if it were? It was too small 
to help me, even if I could reach it, and I 
could not. But if it was a window, ten to 
one it was a spy hole. I looked again. No ; 
if any one were there, he could not see me. 
The thickness of the wall must be greater 
than the visible cross-width of the opening, 
and the near corner cut me out of sight 
from the other side. I sank back, relieved. 
It had harassed me past endurance to 
imagine the scrutiny of a spying eye coldly 
a-watch upon me. 

The idea suggested itself that if I could 
contrive to get my weight all upon one side 
I might, by a sudden jerk, overturn the 


134 A Night With Alessandro 

table and fairly wrench away the chains or 
a piece of myself, it did not matter which if 
only I were free. They should not lay me 
there again while a pulse of blood gave 
strength to fight. 

Acting on the idea, I began to worm my 
middle outwards in an angle. But this 
shortened my length and redoubled the 
strain, and I wriggled back, breathing so 
hard I scarce could draw in air enough. 

The buzzing in my ears that was like the 
rush of a stream grew louder and louder, 
pounding and throbbing. 

I thought I had plunged suddenly into 
the Rhine, seated upon my dapple-grey, 
that snorted at the tide and struck out for 
the opposite bank, twisting with the cur- 
rent, his mane blown by the breeze. All 
about me were my fellows, swimming hard. 
And over on the French side, my land that 
had disowned me, upon the shore stood rank 
on rank of armored infantry, their helmets 


I Am Left to My Reflections 135 

all aglow, their shields aflash, their leaders, 
plumed and corsletted in silver, prancing 
ablaze before, pointing, sweeping with their 
swords and shouting hoarse and loud. And 
now a cheer went up from the enemy, and 
now from our side. A rain of arrows 
glanced and hummed, or pelted, quivering, 
on shield and armor, to tumble in the Rhine. 
My grey touched bottom, clawing with his 
hoofs, tipped, crouched, scrambled to the 
bank, and reared to meet a hail of spears. 
With a shriek he fell, and I with him. It 
was black and still. I was dead, so peace- 
fully, gloriously dead, with the din of bat- 
tle echoing, echoing on. 

Some one was bending over me. It 
seemed to be in the night. What sweet 
voice was that? 

‘^Monsieur — monsieur 1” it said. I tried 
to rouse and answer, but the words failed. 

Some kindly nun, I thought, has found 
me in the camp, and tries to help. 


136 A Night With Alessandro 

‘^Monsieur — Monsieur d’Aubray,” she 
pleaded. 

But I had been sore wounded and had 
lost the power to move. 

With a quivering of the lids that weighed 
so heavily, I opened my eyes. 

Torch smoke upon a vaulted ceiling and, 
about me, tapestries. This was no camp. 
Where was 1 ? Ah, the darting pains a- 
clutch about my hands and feet ! 

‘‘Monsieur !” 

I started almost from the table and the 
chains jangled on the boards as I fell back 
impotent. 

“Oh, Monsieur, speak — speak but once! 
Tell me, tell Blanche Lamont you are not 
dead.” 

Blanche Lamont ! It was her voice, 
issuing from the wall beyond the tapestries, 
yes, from the window-slit, where a light was 
dancing. 


I Am Left to My Reflections 1 37 

“No,” I cried, “alive.” 

‘^Thank God!” came the voice again, 
mellow, restful, stealing the sharpness from 
the torment. 


CHAPTER VII. 


ir ©la^ tbe Gowarb* 

S AVE for the racking of my joints I 
had believed it still the dream. 

“Tell me, I said, “are you indeed 
here. Mademoiselle, or is it only your 
voice ?” 

“Poor Monsieur, it is I indeed,” came 
the tones once more. “Jacques brought me. 
I made him. And he fetched Laura from 
the palace of the Master of Horse, and she 
let me in here ; and they’re gone again to do 
what they can.” 

“Why did you come?” I asked. 

“I must know what they would do to you. 
Monsieur.” 

“They have put me to bed. Mademoiselle, 
or I had gone to meet you.” 

“Then it is true what Jacques said. 
They put you on the rack. Monsieur. Was 


I Play the Coward 139 

it so terrible as they say? Has it left a 
mark upon you?” 

“Not yet, Mademoiselle.” 

“Not yet? What can you mean? How 
long did they torment you?” 

“It seemed long, Mademoiselle.” 

“But can you not come nearer. Monsieur, 
so that I may see you ?” 

“I am unable to move. Mademoiselle.” 

“Unable to move ! Oh, tell me, what have 
they done to you?” 

“They have made me fast.” 

“How.?” 

“With chains to the four corners.” 

“Chained in bed, Monsieur? It cannot 
be. Why, there is no bed in there? 
Jacques says there is nothing but a bench 
and a table. Tell me the truth. Monsieur.” 

“They are not done. Mademoiselle.” 

“Not done? You are not still upon the 
rack? Oh, say it is not so! Say you do 
not suffer any more for me 1” 


140 A Night With Alessandro 

‘^But little now. Mademoiselle.” 

‘‘But you are still upon that — table 

“I had almost forgotten it, Made- 
moiselle.” 

“Then it is not so bad, so unbearable 

“I am no longer alone.” 

“Who is there with you?” 

“Your voice. Mademoiselle.” 

“Oh, Monsieur, I beg of you, forget such 
words. Speak the plain language, as if I 
were a man.” 

“I would rather listen. Mademoiselle.” 

“Incorrigible ! Tell me at once, why did 
they put you there?” 

“Because I did not choose to marry. 
Mademoiselle.” 

“To marry ! Whom ?” 

“They said I must marry you or this. 
Mademoiselle.” 

“Me? Marry me! And you let them 
put you there because you would not ? Oh, 
am I, then, so terrible as that. Monsieur?” 


I Play the Coward 141 

‘^Your scorn was terrible, Mademoiselle.” 
“And the fear of it made you refuse.?” 

“I had not your consent.” 

“My consent ! But what if I had given 
it.?” 

“You would not.” 

“Why, Monsieur.?” 

“You have never even seen me. Made- 
moiselle.” 

“True.” 

“And so you could not love me. Made- 
moiselle.” 

“True.” 

“And so I could not. Mademoiselle.” 
“But tell me, do you dislike me.?” 

“No.” 

“Do you like me?” 

“Yes.” 

“How much?” 

“I am glad. Mademoiselle.” 

“Glad of what.?” 

“That I chose this. Mademoiselle.” 


142 A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘Then you must hate me, Monsieur.” 

“I hate the thought of winning you so.” 

“But what if you were free to choose 
again, Monsieur 

“I would choose the same.” 

“Ah, now I know. Monsieur! You do 
not trust yourself. You think me plain, 
perhaps — plainer than the Abbess 

“I think only of your speech. Made- 
moiselle.” 

“You like it.^^” 

“I love it.” 

“Love it ! Oh, Monsieur, you should not 
love a voice. Well, then I have it. You 
are not free. You love some one with a 
voice like mine.” 

“I love no one else. Mademoiselle.” 

“Then you hate the sex — ^but no, you 
honor it. Monsieur, what thanks can I say, 
what gratitude of my heart 1” 

“Talk to me. Mademoiselle.” 

“Of what.?” 


I Play the Coward 143 

“Of yourself.” 

“Mj^self ! Where shall I begin? First, 
Monsieur, I’m not a novice.” 

“Not a novice?” 

“No, only a woman afraid of Florence 
and the Florentines and, most of all, of the 
Duke.” 

“Your voice told me as much.” 

“My voice again! But I assure you. 
Monsieur, my voice is nothing. Why, I 
can hardly sing.” 

“It seems all song.” 

“Hush 1 Oh, it is too hard I cannot even 
see you 1 If only I could come to you. But 
there’s no key. Jacques says the Duke has 
taken it — the only one. I can do nothing, 
only hate myself for bringing you to this 
pass. Why did I ever speak. Monsieur? I 
had kept silent had I known. Yes, I had 
rather let them break in the doors, though 
by now I had been dead. But life is sweet. 
Monsieur.” 


144 Night With Alessandro 

‘‘To you it must be sweet.” 

“And not to you.^^ Oh, I have made it 
bitter, though I would not. Monsieur, my 
shame at what I’ve done !” 

“There is no shame. Mademoiselle.” 

“Thanks to you. Monsieur.” 

“No thanks; only talk to me.” 

“More about myself.?^” 

“Please, Mademoiselle.” 

“Then I tell you. Monsieur, you shall not 
suffer any more for me. When they come 
back you’ll tell them — won’t you. Mon- 
sieur.? — that you will marry me.?” 

“Never, Mademoiselle.” 

“But yes. Monsieur, you shall, I say.” 

“Never, Mademoiselle.” 

“But listen! I beg of you. Monsieur. 
It shall be only to gain your liberty. You 
need not look upon me once you’re free. 
I’ll leave you and go back — no, not there, 
but to some other safer place. You shall 
not lie there after they come back.” 


I Play the Coward 145 

“Do not ask me, Mademoiselle.” 

“Listen! You fear I may disgrace you. 
Nay, I know your mind. You will not give 
yourself to one you have not seen. You’ve 
sworn to marry only the fairest in the 
world, the fancy of your heart that you 
have sought in many lands and have not 
found. Is it not so. Monsieur.?” 

“How do you know. Mademoiselle.?” 

“Who can tell.? I know it, that is all. 
But see 1 What brought the Duke to look 
at me?” 

“He’d heard you were the fairest novice 
in all Italy.” 

“Shall I tell you how I’m fair?” 

“Please, Mademoiselle.” 

“I’ll try, then. I’m tall. Monsieur, and 
dark, and turning twenty — perhaps you 
think that old ? My hair is dark and long ; 
my eyes are dark — and why should I say 
they’re small, Monsieur, or squinting, when 
they are not? No, they are large eyes, and 


146 A Night With Alessandro 

angry when I’m angry and kind when I’m 
kind. When I first came I spoke no Italian 
word, but the Abbess said I needed not to* 
speak. She understood me from the glance. 
My nose is small — and straight, I think — 
and my mouth is larger than the wont of 
beauties, but not ill-shaped. I am strong. 
Monsieur, and active, and fleet of foot ; and 
I can carry the Abbess on my shoulder, as 
I did just once in sport, scaring her near to 
sickness, till she scolded me and said it was 
not seemly in a woman. And, oh. Monsieur, 
I can’t ! I’ll say it in a word. I’m beauti- 
ful, and where’s the use of playing hypo- 
crite. I should not shame you. Monsieur. 
Nay, I think you would be proud of me. 
And it will be only till you are free. Then 
you can go your ways. I owe it you. 
Come, say you will. I will not brook de- 
nial.” 

“Never, Mademoiselle.” 

“But I say you shall !” 


I Play the Coward 147 

‘^Wait then, and let me tell you of my- 
self, Mademoiselle. I’m young no longer. 
My hair’s half gray. I’m ugly, small and 
half deformed; a ne’er-do-well, a paid 
sword, an idle, roistering good-for-naught, 
picking quick quarrels and patriot to the 
land that bids my price. I’ve led a gay 
and aimless life, tempting death and wast- 
ing God’s good gifts ; I’ve fought and slain 
and drunk and flattered women, and lost the 
grace I brought into the world. Mademoi- 
selle, I’m told in one poor word — adven- 
turer.” 

‘‘Your adventures. Monsieur, have left 
you chivalrous, and you’ve kept that cour- 
age that makes a man a man.” 

“But I am not clean. Mademoiselle. I 
am unworthy of the wife that I have 
sought.” 

“But you have sought her, and that’s 
enough. Monsieur. You have not lost her 
image through it all.” 


148 A Night With Alessandro 

‘^But I have lost the right to her.” 

‘^No, no, a thousand times. You have 
lost naught worth the keeping — honor, 
courage, faith in goodness, hatred of wrong. 
I swear to it, I’d have no fledgling gallant, 
raw upon the world. Give me the arm 
that’s scarred, the sword that’s stained, the 
mind that knows itself and life. I’ll trust 
no other to defend me, and him I’ll trust 
with my heart’s heart. Monsieur, I like you 
but the better for your story. I honor you 
for being what you are, and pity you for 
the cost that made you so. I’ll not accept 
your excuses. Monsieur. There’s no help ; 
you must marry me.” 

‘T pray you. Mademoiselle !” 

‘‘Hush, Monsieur. You would say, you 
will not buy your liberty with my sacri- 
fice.” 

“By heaven — ” 

“No, 3^11 must not speak till I have done. 
Think but of my case. Monsieur. What 


I Play the Coward 149 

will become of me if I stay here? You 
know the Duke — alas ! Monsieur, you know 
him but too well. Marry me then; take 
me but out of Italy, anywhere away from 
Florence and its reach. Would you have 
me defenseless. Monsieur, should His 
Excellency desire to visit the nunnery 
again ?” 

^Wou need not stay. Mademoiselle. My 
Jacques could take you. He is as experi- 
enced as I, and far more prudent. You 
may trust him fully.” 

‘Wour Jacques, indeed! But I do not 
choose to trust him. Monsieur. I will have 
you take me, or I’ll stay and spend the 
nights in fearful watching, with a dagger 
in my dress, and should he come I’ll use it, 
and you will be to blame.” 

^‘Think but of what you ask. Mademoi- 
selle. My word that I must keep. Would 
you have them mock me as a coward, con- 
quered by the pincers and the chains, and 


150 A Night With Alessandro 

base enough to profit by your pity? Im- 
possible !” 

^^What care you for the taunts of such 
as they! I’d rather have their scorn than 
their praise. You know you would not stop 
at that. ’Tis chivalry that stops you — 
chivalry alone.” 

‘^Ibeg— ” 

‘^Not yet — not yet. I swear you shan’t 
refuse me. What think you of my pride, at 
being rebuffed so coldly? I’ll marry you. 
Do you see this, Monsieur?” 

A torch flamed through the opening. 

‘^The torch. Mademoiselle? What then?” 

‘‘I can’t put my arm through. Monsieur, 
but it doesn’t matter. Do you believe me?” 

“Believe you? What do you mean. 
Mademoiselle ?” 

“I mean, when I tell you this or that do 
you doubt I speak the truth ?” 

“I believe you implicitly. Mademoiselle.” 

“Then hearken ! This torch I’m holding 


I Play the Coward 1 5 1 

here in one hand close by the little window, 
and it is burning as it was when I showed it 
to you. Now the other arm I’ve bared half 
way to the shoulder, and I’m going to put 
it in the flame.” 

‘^In God’s name, Mademoiselle !” I cried, 
wrenching at the fastenings. 

‘‘Yes, and I shall hold it there till you 
agree.” ^ 

“Stop ! — a moment ! — Mademoiselle, have 
pity !” 

“Now I’ve put it in the flame. So. It is 
scorching how.” 

“God!” 

“Now it is sizzling.” 

“I’ll marry you 1” I cried at the top of 
my voice. 

“There ! I knew you would. Now pay 
attention and agree to all I say, or I’ll do 
it again.” 

“Yes.” 

“When they come back you’ll tell them 


152 A Night With Alessandro 

you’ve changed your mind ; that you’ll 
marry me.” 

«Yes.” 

‘^And insist upon it, nor let them see you 
falter.” 

‘‘It will be worse than all, Mademoiselle.” 

“Oh, ungallant!” 

“I mean the coward part. Mademoiselle.” 

“But you’ll have me 1” Blanche Lamont 
laughed enchantingly. “Think of that. 
Monsieur 1” 

“Yes.” 

“Yes.f^ Where is your compliment now. 
Monsieur? Is it like the common flattery, 
for the ear?” 

“If I marry you. Mademoiselle, I shan’t 
be free.” 

“Not free?” 

“Your arm. Mademoiselle.” 

“And what of that ?” 

“Do you think I’d let you leave me after 
that?” 


I Play the Coward 153 

‘‘Those are the terms, Monsieur.” 

“I shall forget them, Mademoiselle.” 

“I shall remind you. Monsieur. Harkl 
Oh, it’s Jacques. Oh, Jacques, they’ve left 
him on the rack !” 

^‘Mon dieuF’ I heard Jacques exclaim. 

Then the torch flickered behind the slit in 
the wall. 

“Monsieur,” came my man’s eager tones, 
“I’ve half a mind to marry the girl!” 

“Which one I asked with a laugh. 

“Why, the inimitable Laura, Monsieur. 
She’s stolen the key from the pocket of the 
Duke at the refreshment tables. I’ll have 
you out of that. Quick, Mademoiselle ! 
Follow me.” 

The slit grew dark again. There was 
half a minute’s silence. The the door be- 
hind me jangled and clanked, there was a 
rush of footsteps, and Blanche and 
Jacques were bending over me. 

Blanche started back when she saw my 


154 A Night With Alessandro 

case, stiffling a cry. Jacques began fever- 
ishly to try at the screws. 

^‘Stop!” I commanded. ‘‘Not a touch, 
Jacques ! I’ll keep as I am till they come 
back.” 

“Don’t heed him, Jacques !” cried 
Blanche. “Unfasten him — quick. Here! 
Oh, look at his poor hands !” 

“No, Mademoiselle,” said I. She stopped 
suddenly in her attempt to get the trick of 
the device. 

“You forget our terms,” I explained. 

“But you do not need to now. Monsieur. 
Oh, let me, let me. They’ll soon be here, 
and then it’ll be too late.” 

Jacques, who had run to the door, crept 
back softly. 

“It’s too late now. Monsieur,” he whis- 
pered. “They’re coming.” 

“Go out,” I said, “and lock the door, and 
drop the key in the hall.” 

“Yes, Monsieur,” replied Jacques. He 


I Play the Coward 155 

skimmed like a shadow toward the door and 
stopped. 

‘‘And you, Mademoiselle,” I added. 

“Come, Mademoiselle !” called Jacques 
softly. 

“I’ll not go,” said Blanche. 

“Jacques !” I cried. 

He darted out, closed the door and turned 
the key with scarcely a sound. 

Blanche stood beside me, breathing 
deeply. 

“If they hurt you any more,” she panted 
fiercely, “I’ll kill them !” 

Already there was shouting and laugh- 
ter outside, and the noise of hurrying 
feet. 

“They’re coming !” gasped Blanche, 
glancing about the room, her glorious eyes 
ablaze. 

She darted from me, and I craned my 
neck in time to see her glide behind the 
loose-hung drapery behind the bench. 


156 A Night With Alessandro 

Without, I could hear the Duke thunder- 
ing over the key, which he had missed from 
his pocket. 

‘^Here it is. Your Excellency!” cried 
Lorenzaccio, who must have picked it from 
the flags. 

Again the lock grated and clanked. The 
door creaked as it swung. 

‘‘Ha! ha! ha!” roared the Duke. “But 
that was a rare hour, hey, Strozzi.? Wasn’t 
she a beauty, that little blonde with the rose- 
bud mouth ? Ha ! ha ! And what a temper ! 
And yours, Strozzi ! Ah, you rogue, you’ve 
always an eye for the women. What, 
Salviati — what, Lorenzo? Did either of 
you find such a dainty bit as our sly Banker 
there?” 

They had come towards me, the Duke 
taking his stand awkwardly a-straddle at 
the foot of the table, his arms folded, his 
heavy mouth agrin. The others drew up 
beside him, staring at me. 


I Play the Coward 157 

All but Strozzi were red-eyed and un- 
steady from their drink. 

now, my tricksy Frenchman,” opened 
the Duke with a leer, “how have you passed 
the time.f^ You complained of insufficient 
sleep, I think. Let us hope you’ve had 
pleasant dreams.” 

I said nothing. 

“The dog looks sick enough,” he went 
on. “See to him, Salviati. Has he got 
himself eased with any of his knavery?” 
So saying he tried the screws and gave a 
rough jerk to the fastenings. 

“He’s been trying to pull out,” com- 
mented Lorenzaccio, who had been inspect- 
ing my fingers narrowly. “See! This 
thumb here’s half cut to the bone, and the 
table’s a puddle of blood.” 

“He’s game enough,” agreed Salviati 
with a scowl. 

“Game, is he?” jeered the Duke. “Well, 
we’ll see how far that goes. Here, Strozzi! 


158 A Night With Alessandro 

We’ll sit and watch. Ha! ha! This is a 
night indeed. Sport from start to finish. 
My eyes, she was a very queen, now, con- 
fess it! Hold on, you! Come, Strozzi; 
put your questions first.” 

The Banker, who had been silent thus far, 
took his former seat to the right of the 
Duke upon the bench and, folding his 
hands, began to speak. 

^‘The Duke is gracious enough,” he said, 
“to grant you once more the choice of the 
alternatives of which you have already had 
an opportunity of trying one. His Excel- 
lency is still disposed to permit your 
scrupulous sense of honor to find its satis- 
faction in marriage with the lady whom you 
have chosen to defend. The fact that you 
are already married and the father of chil- 
dren should. His Excellency thinks, be no 
obstacle in the way of so enviable a match.” 

I cannot describe my emotions at listen- 
ing to this speech or my humiliating con- 


I Play the Coward 159 

sciousness of the villainy of the part in 
which I was about to appear. But I had 
seen Blanche, and there was no faltering at 
my promise. 

‘‘Signor,” I replied, “I will marry the 
lady.” 

Strozzi smiled wickedly ; the Duke 
sprang to his feet with a roar of laughter ; 
Salviati stood by sullenly ; and Lorenzaccio 
frowned a dark frown that made his weak 
face ridiculous. 

“Aha ! my honorable Frenchman !” 
brayed the Duke, careening on one un- 
steady foot and gesturing with his clubby 
hands; “our Italian ways are not so dis- 
tasteful after all, hey? — what.? A chance 
marriage is at least better than too great 
physical discomfort, hey.? — what.? Oho, 
’tis a glorious game! Did I not say the 
brave song would change.? ‘Go on’ at first, 
and then, ‘Do as you deem best, my Lord.?’ 
Ha ! ha 1 ’Tis the best sport I’ve had this 


i6o A Night With Alessandro 

many a day. We wouldn’t force ourselves 
upon the lady, would we? No indeed; we 
were too French for that. France was 
ever a loud talker. But for action and wit 
come to Italy, my gallant, heyi^ — what? 
We’ll give you points in human nature. Oh, 
Strozzi, my man, the rack’s the thing to 
show the color of the liver! 

^^Flere, Salviati 1 Release this gentleman 
from his unpleasant constraint. We must 
give him time to get his joints together, 
that he may make graceful obeisance and 
sugared compliment to the bride. The 
French were ever good at ladying. So! 
Now stand him up and let us have a look 
at him. This, gentlemen, is your pattern 
of French courtesy. Is he not handsome, 
brave, honest, a paragon for us Italians? 

“You are right, Strozzi, as you always 
are. The fellows should be back by now. 
Send your Tomasso, will you? We’ll see if 
they’ve fetched her yet.” 


I Play the Coward i6i 

Strozzi rose to obey, and I stood stiff as 
a scabbard waiting for events. For the 
cramps in my toes, it was all I could do to 
keep my feet. 

The Duke had, then, sent to the nunnery 
for Blanche, as he had said he would. What 
would happen when they found her gone? 

Tomasso, on appearing, declared at once 
that the guards had returned a full half 
hour before and were waiting with the lady. 

My head swam. 

“Fetch her up 1” bawled the Duke. “And 
stay ! Send a boy to knock up a priest to 
do the thing forthwith.” 

I tried not to change color or make a 
sign, but the astonishment that fell upon 
me set me fairly quaking on my legs. What 
fresh trick was this that they would spring 
upon me? Who could she be? I thought 
with all my might. 

Alessandro had gone to sit again on the 
bench with Strozzi. Salviati and Loren- 


1 62 A Night With Alessandro 

zaccio went wandering to the other end of 
the room, arm in arm. 

I stood quite still, watching the pair 
upon the bench. They were talking to- 
gether in low tones, the Duke with much 
gusto and gesture, Strozzi passively as 
usual, with but a word here and there and a 
thoughtful nod or creeping smile that drew 
from the other a stifled giggle or a loud 
guffaw. Only once did they look my way, 
and then their half-closed lids told me that 
they were taking me to pieces between them. 

It tickled me to think that Blanche, from 
her place behind the drapery, was doubtless 
hearing every word of the dialogue. 

A knock at the door. 

“Come in!” shouted the Duke, who was 
lording it indeed in Strozzi’s palace. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


*ir ipla^ tbe 1bero* 

T hree guards filed in, leading a 
woman who hung back reluctantly. 
She was closely veiled, and walked 
stiffly with a mannish tread and the com- 
pletely collapsed demeanor of a sheep being 
led to the shambles. The figure was 
stumpy, if not fat, and the hands, one at 
her side, the other ungracefully clutching 
the veil about her throat, were repellent in 
their angularity. 

If they fancied they were going to marry 
me to that — 

‘‘Approach,” said Strozzi, taking his cue 
from the Duke’s crapulous wink. 

The four came and stood before the 
bench. One of the guards pushed the 
woman to the front. 


164 A Night With Alessandro 

^^Come forward. Monsieur,” Strozzi re- 
peated. 

I advanced, taking my stand as far as 
possible away from the fright of a woman, 
whoever she was and wherever they had 
fetched her from. 

There was a tremulous movement behind 
the drapery and, fearing Blanche would be 
discovered, I cleared my throat roughly and 
made a sour face. 

Lorenzaccio and Salviati returned to- 
wards us, silently eying the tableau we 
formed, which must in sooth have been 
ludicrous enough. 

‘‘This gentleman. Mademoiselle,” began 
Strozzi afresh, addressing the creature on 
my left, “is inclined in his Gallic chivalry 
to free you from the dull round of convent 
duties by offering you his hand.” 

I took a step forward. 

“Pardon, Signor I said. “Do you 
refer to me.?^” 


I Play the Hero 165 

Strozzi gave a slight start. The Duke 
leaned forward, watching me. The two 
others drew nearer, exchanging looks. The 
guards, who stood at attention, rolled their 
eyes with a common impulse in my direc- 
tion. 

‘‘Most certainly. Monsieur,” the Banker 
returned, “I am but putting the case with 
what delicacy I can to this — this lady, 
whom you have chosen to honor with your 
disinterested admiration.” 

I let him finish respectfully enough, and 
then spoke. 

“You are quite misinformed. Signor. I 
have not the remotest intention of marrying 
this — this lady. My choice was marriage 
with Mademoiselle Blanche Lament.” 

The Duke jerked as if to get up, but 
Strozzi laid a calm hand upon his 
arm. 

“And Monsieur Gaspard d’Aubray,” the 
latter quietly resumed, “I have the honor of 


1 66 A Night With Alessandro 

introducing you to Mademoiselle Blanche 
Lamont.” 

‘‘Rubbish!” I cried. “That’s no more 
Mademoiselle Lamont than you or I, and 
you know it!” 

It was a bold stroke, and took them all 
completely by surprise. 

“How dare you !” snorted the Duke, 
throwm into a violent fury. “How dare you 
give us all the lie ! You chose to marry her, 
and marry her you shall, or back you go ! 
This is Blanche Lamont, I say. Where’s 
the priest.? Upon my soul, the effrontery 
of this spy is past all bounds !” 

Again a knock at the door. 

“Ah, there he is ! Let him in, Lorenzo. 

“Now hark 3’^ou, my braggart-coward, 
we know the stuff you’re made of. Keep 
your noise to yourself or we’ll put you 
where you were, and there you’ll stay 
though you bawl for mercy till the sky 
cracks.” 


I Play the Hero 167 

Lorenzo had opened to a priest, who now 
advanced with the glide of his trade and 
made a low reverence to the Duke. 

“Good-day, Father,” said the latter. 
“You are come in good time. Have the 
goodness to unite these two impatient lovers 
in the knot of wedlock. Guards, you may 
retire. Show them out, Lorenzo. Salviati, 
give away the bride. So! Now, begin 
without delay.” 

He settled back beside Strozzi, folded 
his arms and nodded to the priest. 

I glanced about. The guards were gone. 
Lorenzo had returned to take his seat to the 
right of Strozzi. Salviati stood behind the 
woman personating Blanche. 

The priest, drawing the book from his 
pocket, began to finger the leaves. 

“The names of the parties to this mar- 
riage.'^” he interrogated professionally. 

Strozzi answered: 

“Monsieur Gaspard d’Aubray, gentle- 


1 68 A Night With Alessandro 

man, of France, and Mademoiselle Blanche 
Lamont, sometime novice in the convent 
of—’’ 

He did not finish. At the mention of the 
woman’s name the priest had started, paled, 
stared at the awkward form before him. 

Now he raised a protesting hand. 

‘‘There is some strange misunderstand- 
ing here. Signor,” he said. “This person 
is not Mademoiselle Lamont. I am con- 
fessor to the convent where she is. This is 
not she. Your Excellency.” 

The Duke’s face was a study. He was 
fairly choking with rage at this most unex- 
pected development, and completely non- 
plussed. Strozzi retained his outward cool- 
ness with a visible effort. Lorenzaccio kept 
opening and shutting his mouth as he had 
done at first. Salviati shifted uneasily from 
foot to foot. 

“Our word should suffice. Father, me- 
thinks,” said Strozzi, sharply, after an 


I Play the Hero 169 

awkward pause. ‘‘His Excellency has 
called you to discharge a function of your 
office, not to contradict him.” 

This reproof was accompanied by a sig- 
nificant look. 

But the priest, who had the stubbornness 
of his theology, met the look firmly, though 
his cheeks grew very white. 

Something gleamed at the Duke’s side. 
A hand was extended through the drapery 
and had laid hold of the hilt of the sword he 
carried — my sword. From the corner of 
my eye I watched the blade steal forth from 
the scabbard and disappear behind the 
drapery. Blanche had armed herself. In a 
twinkling I could have my sword again. I 
breathed deeper and the blood began to 
dart and spurt through my stiffened 
limbs. 

Then the Duke made a false move. 

“Off with the veil!” he cried. “Has the 
Abbess cozened us 


170 A Night With Alessandro 

Strozzi glared at him as if he had gladly 
set his fingers at his throat. 

The woman tottered a step backwards as 
if about to fall, stretching out one gloved 
hand aimlessly. 

What was that ? In a flash she 
had laid hold of Salviati’s rapier and 
whipped it from the sheath. The left 
hand tore away the veil and a bass voice 
cried : 

‘^Voila, MessieursT^ 

It was Jacques. 

The Duke and Strozzi sprang up, 
Strozzi drawing, the Duke clutching wildly 
at his left for the hilt that was not there. 
Lorenzaccio, rapier in hand, ran forward; 
Salviati, dumbfounded, stood like a post, 
glowering open-mouthed. 

‘‘Come on, Lorenzo !” cried Strozzi, 
making a lunge at me where I stood un- 
armed. 

But Jacques turned his point and en- 


I Play the Hero 171 

gaged him. Lorenzaccio wheeled from 
them to me. 

I was no longer alone. Blanche had 
dashed from behind the drapery and given 
me my sword. I caught Lorenzaccio’s 
lunge, shielding Blanche with an arm. 

^‘Treachery !” shouted Alessandro. ^‘The 
guards, Salviati!” 

Salviati did not reach the door. Jacques 
was there before him: with his back against 
the panels he kept him and Strozzi at arm’s 
length. 

“Now, Sir Duke!” I called. “Keep to 
your terms or here’s an end of you. Call 
the others off’ and you shall hear of treach- 
ery indeed. I ask for nothing but my 
right.” 

“Forbear!” cried the priest in a voice of 
thunder. “This is indeed the signorina. 
The signor claims his right.” 

“Cease, Strozzi ! — Lorenzo ! Cease, I 
say !” commanded the Duke, who, seeing 


172 A Night With Alessandro 

himself quite unmolested, was eying 
Blanche with too evident admiration. 
^^Have done with this senseless quarreling. 
The lady’s presence!” 

We separated unwillingly and faced 
about to the Duke. 

‘^Sheathe your rapiers 1” he insisted hotly. 

We did so with ill grace. But Jacques 
kept close to me, with Blanche between us. 

Strozzi made an attempt to take the lead 
once more, but Alessandro frowned him 
down and showed himself the master. 

^^Now, my fine fellow, have the goodness 
to explain,” he demanded of me, his fists 
clenched and dangling tremulously at his 
sides. ^‘What means this violence, this 
double-play, these twists and turns 

Before I could speak Blanche stepped 
out from between us and, facing the Duke, 
coldly took the word. 

‘Tt hardly needs explaining. Your Ex- 
cellency,” she said, ‘^that this gentleman 


I Play the Hero 173 

holds you to your word. What has he done 
that does not cry aloud for thanks ? At the 
risk of his life he followed you tonight, 
bent upon warning you of the paid men of 
your enemy. But you would not hear him, 
you or Signor Strozzi there. Taunting him 
with being a spy and one of the band he 
came to warn you of, you set upon him 
without excuse. And what did he? With 
his single sword against you he had easily 
killed you. But he would not, and called to 
you — I heard him — ^to make proof of what 
he’d told. But you heeded not. Your Ex- 
cellency, and when his man came you set 
upon him too. But they held you at the 
ends of their swords. And then the others. 
He had joined them had he sought your 
life, but he turned of his own free will and 
fought for you, ay, fought so well not one 
was left alive to tell how near he’d been to 
killing you. But even then you thanked 
him not, but listening to the counsel of 


174 A Night With Alessandro 

those that would gladly see you dead, you 
swore he should join you in unmanly force 
against defenceless weakness; and then, be- 
cause he would not, you fought with him 
again and threw him by foul play, and 
bound him and brought him here, and swore 
he should marry, dishonoring himself and 
me, or feel the rack. But still again he 
would not, choosing the tortures that were 
your coward thanks. And he were there till 
now at the mercy of your cruelty. But I 
came and by that window pleaded with him 
to marry me for his freedom. But he would 
not. And so I held this arm in the fire of 
my torch till he agreed, and played a 
coward part for courtesy. 

‘^And now you set a trap for him, plan- 
ning to fetch some ugly jade to mate to him 
because you thought he feared the rack. 
Ah, I heard you there behind the drapery. 
Signor Strozzi ! But again he will not, and 
he is right. Father, these men are bound 


I Play the Hero 175 

by their words. To me only dare you 
marry him. Shame — shame upon you all, 
that so forget your manhood and your 
honor !” 

She ceased, and Strozzi spoke up quickly. 

‘^This gentleman who is so gallant as to 
marry you to save his skin,” he said, ‘4s 
married already, and a father.” 

“You are in error. Signor,” returned 
Blanche. “He is not married, and his name 
is not d’Aubray.” 

The Duke was gnawing his lips irreso- 
lutely. 

“Who is he, then.?^” he demanded with a 
sneer. 

Blanche turned to me. 

“I will tell the priest when he asks me,” I 
replied. 

“Marry them — marry them, in the name 
of Satan, and have done,” bellowed the 
Duke. “There’s no getting on with this 
crazy fellow.” 


176 A Night With Alessandro 

‘^Stay!” said Strozzi, stepping quickly 
to the Duke and whispering in his 
ear. 

Alessandro nodded, and Strozzi withdrew 
stealthily toward the door. 

^^Sir Duke,” I exclaimed, ‘‘before Signor 
Strozzi retires I crave a word of import to 
Your Excellency.” 

Alessandro, upon whom my charges at 
the nunnery must have told, waved Strozzi 
back, and sat upon the bench. 

“What? Again?” he demanded gruffly. 
“Proceed.” 

“Will Your Excellency have the good- 
ness to summon one Laura, a maid in Signor 
Strozzi’s service?” 

The Banker’s brow clouded, but he took 
his seat beside the Duke with a careless 
sigh. 

“Lorenzo, send for this woman,” said the 
Duke. 

Blanche and I kept looking at one an- 


I Play the Hero 177 


other. She understood that I was going to 
try a hand against the Banker. 

The four men sat moodily, glancing at 
me now and then. The Duke at least was 
uncertain of me. I knew, or appeared to 
know, too much to please him. Jacques’s 
face wore an anticipatory grin. 

Laura presently appeared. I did not 
wonder at Jacques being smitten. 

She came forward confidently and courte- 
sied to the Duke. Jacques eyed her re- 
servedly. 

^^Laura,” I said, ‘^please recount to His 
Excellency the little story of the Lady 
Lucia and the head-cook of the Master of 
Horse.” 

The Duke grew intent at once, his glance 
burning upon Laura as if it would consume 
her. 

^Tt is only an amusing little anecdote,” 
replied Laura, ‘‘but one that flatters His 
Excellency. Maria, the Signora’s maid. 


178 A Night With Alessandro 

carried not long ago a precious potion to 
Andreo, the head-cook, to be stirred upon 
occasion in His Excellency’s wine; for the 
Signora had been hurt at the infrequency 
of His Excellency’s visits. 

‘^But Andreo does not believe in love- 
potions and he would — ” 

She stopped abruptly, staring at the 
Duke. 

At the first mention of the Lady Lucia’s 
name Alessandro had begun to smile ; but as 
Laura proceeded his face grew grim and 
suspicious, and at the word “love-potion” 
his thick neck turned suddenly black with 
the blood that spouted to it. 

“Love-potion!” he now burst forth. 
“Oho ! I smell a rat ! Potions ! — potions ? 
Poisons, I tell you — poisons that would 
suck my life!” He got upon his feet and 
stamped about, the wrathfullest man I ever 
saw. “Laura, you’re a treasure! I swear 
I owe you ten thousand ducats for this bit 


I Play the Hero 179 

of news. Alia ! the beauty of it ! Oho ! the 
hugest bit of treachery and the cunningest. 
What? Do I know the source of it or do 
I not? Alessandro’s a fool, hey? — what? 
I tell you there are better fools than the 
Duke of Florence. Do you think he looks 
at words and names and lets pass the things 
that wear them? What? Does he know 
who set the lady on with his plot of potions, 
jealous because she had a fancy for a 
Duke? Ay, there’s a better fool than he, 
and there he sits! Strozzi, you viper, I 
charge you with this villainy. Lorenzo — 
Salviati, seize him 1 Father, call the 
guards 1” 

Strozzi was thunderstruck, or acted it. 
Rising slowly as if dazed, he stretched out 
his palms, expostulating, with the look of 
some servant falsely accused. 

Your Excellency, I?” he demanded. 
“What have I to do with those you flatter 
with your favors?” 


i8o A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘Aha!” retorted Alessandro. “I know 
your wily tongue. Why, you’d talk the 
Lord Almighty into apologizing for a 
breach of faith! Have done! Florence 
shall know her master, and that he can deal 
with them that seek his life. Seize him, I 
say! What.?^ He will not.? Come, Mon- 
sieur, I owe you much already. ’Twas he 
that put me on to every step of this. Go 
you and bind him.” 

Strozzi had begun to struggle faintly 
against Lorenzaccio and Salviati, but his 
judgment came quickly to his rescue and 
he let himself be stripped of sword and belt. 

I went to him and, taking the belt from 
Lorenzaccio, made fast his hands behind 
him with no light force. 

“Oho! my cat,” I whispered in his ear, 
“singed !” 

I shall not soon forget the look he darted 
at me from beneath his arching eyebrow^* 

The soldiers had tramped in. 


I Play the Hero i8i 

“Guard this man,” directed the Duke, 
pointing to Strozzi. 

They led him to one side. 

Alessandro resumed his place upon the 
bench. He had steadied visibly. 

“Come, sit you here, Salviati and 
Lorenzo,” he said, and when they had 
obeyed he turned to the priest with a wave 
of his arm. 

“Marry them. Father,” he added. 
“Marry them straightway.” 

I stepped forward eagerly, leading 
Blanche by the hand. But Blanche courte- 
sied to the Duke and spoke. 

“Does Your Excellency now free this 
gentleman only if I marry him she asked. 
Her voice faltered and her cheeks grew 
paler than I had seen them. 

“What say you. Monsieur?” replied the 
Duke, turning to me. “Will you pay the 
price of your freedom?” 

I looked at Blanche, who met my eyes 


1 82 A Night With Alessandro 

steadily, and we stood full a minute so. 
Then I looked again to Alessandro. 

He was watching us with a grin of 
amusement. 

‘^Upon my honor, it’s love,” he de- 
clared. ‘T^iss, my doves, and then to your 
mating !” 

I held out my arms and Blanche leapt 
into them, hiding her face. 

‘^How dare you say you were little and 
ugly and deformed.?^” I heard her whisper. 

‘‘How could you burn your arm.?” I an- 
swered. 

“Enough! — enough!” roared the Duke 
with a laugh. “Very pretty! Rare tab- 
leau ! Now, Father.” 

The priest advanced noiselessly and fin- 
gered the pages as before. 

“The names of the parties to this mar- 
riage.?” he repeated. 

“Blanche Lamont,” replied the Duke; 
“and — what. Monsieur.?” 


I Play the Hero 183 


‘‘Roland, Compte de Ronsard,” I said, 
“soldier of Charles the Fifth.” 

All three on the bench started violently. 
Salviati and Lorenzaccio exchanged guilty 
glances. 

The Duke rose, his hand outstretched. 

“Prove it !” cried Strozzi, where he stood 
among the guards. 

I slipped my hand within my shirt and, 
fetching forth the ring, placed it upon my 
finger and held it out to Alessandro. 

“The Emperor’s signet!” exclaimed the 
latter, half puzzled, half pleased. 

Then he broke into a loud laugh. 

“Well played 1” he cried. “Well played, 
Compte! My crafty father-in-law chose a 
trusty messenger. Well played, upon my 
soul !” 

He grasped my hand and sat down again. 

Lorenzaccio could not meet my look. 

Then we were married, and I owe the 
rascal Duke a debt beyond all telling. 


184 A Night With Alessandro 

When we had done I bowed to Ales- 
sandro, saying: 

have a favor to ask, Your Excel- 
lency.” 

“Ask it,” he replied. 

“My man Jacques,” I went on, “has done 
as much as I, and he is unrewarded. Marry 
him, then, to this Laura, who has taken his 
fancy mightily with her quick Italian wit 
and her pretty face.” 

“Lucifer, King of bad angels !” cried the 
Duke, “but this is rare sport indeed! Tie 
them up. Father ! Come, my pretty Laura, 
you’ve won a husband by your tale. Upon 
my soul, I think you’ve saved my life 1” 

Jacques, taken completely by surprise 
where he stood with Laura apart, turned to 
me a face so ludicrous that all of us but 
Strozzi laughed outright. I think on gen- 
eral principles he would rather have raised 
objections. But I scowled upon him, and 
he dared not, and the blushing Laura, who 


I Play the Hero 185 

hung in doubt, suddenly conquered his re- 
luctance with a bewitching smile. He took 
her hand as I had taken Blanche’s, and they 
came and stood before the bench. 

‘‘The names of the parties to this mar- 
riage ?” began the priest, and in a twinkling 
they were man and wife. 

I think Alessandro was not utterly sin- 
cere in his admiration for Jacques’s part 
and mine, or in the facetious cordiality with 
which he had received the revelation of my 
name. Policy was the root of them, beyond 
a doubt; but, happily, policy was enough. 

“And now,” I said, “Your Excellency 
will understand my desire to leave Florence 
forthwith. My errand is done. I have 
much to tell the Emperor, much that will 
ill please him. But of Your Excellency I 
have to tell only of hospitality, of courage, 
decision, and the power to rule. In the main 
the report will gratify Charles. I crave the 
honor of safe-conduct as far as Verona.” 


i86 A Night With Alessandro 

‘‘By all means,” he agreed. “The trus- 
tiest of my guards shall go with you. If, 
that is, you really must be going — ^you and 
your beautiful wife in whom Florence, er, 
er, and Italy, will — ah — lose one of its 
brightest gems, ahem !” 

The Duke was no hand at compliment, 
but the tone of this attempt set me an-itch 
to carry Blanche beyond the reach of his 
designs. 

“Your Excellency is gracious,” I re- 
plied. “I am compelled by my instructions 
to start at once.” 

“At once.?” queried the Duke. “Will 
you not even tarry to try a bite with me at 
the palace.?” 

“A thousand thanks!” said I. “We’ll 
break our fast upon the way, where good 
wine offers.” 

“Good,” returned the Duke, ill pleased. 
“Lorenzo, send for Vitelli.” 


I Play the Hero 187 

‘‘May I not have the honor of seeing to 
the conduct?” asked Lorenzaccio. 

“Send for Vitellil” repeated the Duke, 
with a stamp of his foot. 

Twenty minutes later we were all four 
a-horse surrounded by a little troop of ten 
of the Duke’s guard. 

We left the city, trotting northward, as 
the day broke and the first red light began 
to creep down the towers at our backs. 
Jacques, who was in the gayest of good 
humours, showered his practiced attentions 
upon the radiant Laura at his side. 
Blanche and I, who led the cavalcade, could 
hear their merriment and appreciate it. 

Once, as we were engaged in pleasant 
talk, I felt a hand touch my sleeve respect- 
fully. It was Jacques, who had cantered 
round from the rear. He looked ten years 
younger. 

“Upon my word. Monsieur,” he ex- 


1 88 A Night With Alessandro 

claimed confidentially under his breath, 

‘^Fve half a mind to marry the g oh, 

mon dieu! it’s done already!” And clap- 
ping a hand over his mouth, he dropped 
behind with a frightened face, followed by 
our laughter. 

It was the beginning of a happy jour- 
ney, and we all breathed freer, and our 
pulses quickened, as mile after mile 
dropped behind us and the memory of our 
night with Alessandro. 


THE END. 






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